In The Genes
by Ghost of the Dawn
Summary: 2003 series: An overzealous geneticist has pushed his unspeakable experiments too far. Now his darkest secrets have escaped. Mutated monsters, government conspiracies, and an ancient, alien apocalypse may be more than a turtle can handle. Rebooted characters from the 80's series, no OCs.
1. Chapter 1: Monsters and Nightmares

Author's Notes: I have had people asking me to write a TMNT fanfic for years. Previously, I have not had the time. My schedule has changed and I'm attempting to fit it in. As of right now, this story has the lowest priority of all my fanfic projects. However, I am a review whore. If people start getting excited about the story and leaving me quality reviews, I shall also get more excited and give it higher priority.

This story takes place in the 2003 series universe. I've had a hard time pinpointing a specific moment in the series where this story could happen. The Shredder is defeated, Karai has moved back to Japan to do most of her business. The lair was not destroyed and the guys still live in their sewer den. The guys are around 18-19 years old. There will be discrepancies with the show storyline. I am aware of them, but I had to do what I could to make this story fit.

Additional characters added will be mostly from the 80's TV show refitted to fit into this series. Enjoy.

* * *

In the Genes

By: Ghost of the Dawn

Chapter One: Monsters and Nightmares

Splinter basked in the peace of the lair. His meditation time had been so lovely, so serene. He had gone so deep he had not heard a single sound. And even now, his surroundings were warm, still and silent. Blissfully silent. So wonderfully, peacefully silent.

Splinter cracked an eye open.

Suspiciously silent.

His whiskers twitched.

"Michelangelo!" His youngest better not be setting up some elaborate prank on his brothers. The ink stains on the wall would never come out.

The master received no response.

"Donatello?" Splinter would have to have a stern talk to his science-loving son if his chemistry experiments blew another hole in the ceiling.

Still nothing. Splinter hefted himself to his feet.

"Raphael!" He prayed the most intense of his boys was working on his motorcycle and not stabbing holes in the upholstery.

Silence. Splinter poked his head out of his room.

"Leonardo?" His eldest was quiet anyway, but he, too, had a tendency to make a mess when he got the itch to put together another massive gauntlet of traps and weapons to practice with.

No sign of anyone and the liar looked in the same shape it had been when he retired to his thoughts.

"Boys!" the old rat bellowed and then listened.

An ear flicked. Not a sound. Where were they?

Mumbling to himself, Splinter turned back into his room to root around for his shell cell. A stupid name for a stupid contraption if Splinter had an opinion to offer. But it did have its uses. His device was simpler than the ones his sons carried. Modified by Donatello, it had four color coded buttons. All he had to do was press the designated color for the turtle he wished to reach.

Splinter was a bit irritated his sons had left without informing him. They were eighteen years old now and no longer felt the need to ask for permission to leave the lair. But one rule still stood, and would always stand, as long as Splinter was alive to enforce it. When one left the lair, someone else needed to be told. Their lives were far too dangerous to ignore this tiny little safety net.

So Splinter was a bit aggravated as he located his device and pushed the blue button.

"Yes, Sensei?" Leonardo's voice answered on the second ring.

"Leonardo, where are the four of you? You did not say you were leaving the lair or where you would be going."

"I did- Mikey did!" Leonardo insisted. "He told me he told you."

"I did!" came Michelangelo's voice in the background. "I said it right to his face! But he was in one of those trance thingies he does. I thought he heard me! He nodded... I think."

Leonardo sighed on the line. "Something set off one of the outer alarms. We were just going to check it out."

"Very well. Be careful. Watch out for each other."

Leonardo's sigh was audible. "Yes, Sensei. We-"

He suddenly let out a very startled cry.

"Leonardo?" Splinter worried. "Leonardo! What is happening?"

His son's voice was hasty now. "Everything is fine. But uh... I gotta call you back."

Splinter stared at the communicator in confusion as Leonardo hung up on him.

* * *

The brothers stared together in utter perplexity over what stood before them. Leonardo had been speaking on the phone when a cheerful, feminine "Hi!" had taken them all by surprise, and caused him to let out a rather unheroic yelp. The four turtles jumped at the voice, crouched and weapons at ready. Donatello's flashlight landed on the source.

A human girl squinted in the light, unafraid. "Hey guys," she greeted again as if they were friends. "I finally found you. I've been searching forever."

The turtles looked at each other. Maybe this girl couldn't really see who and what they were with the flashlight shining in her face. Donatello kept it there to blind her.

"Uh, who is it you're looking for?" Leonardo asked carefully.

"You guys," the girl insisted. "Don't you remember me? It's Irma."

They squinted at her in confusion. They did know a few humans, but none that looked like her. The girl named Irma was average height, petite build with brunette hair pulled into a pony tail. Thick, square glasses framed her face. Her backpack and ripped jeans were dirty as if she had been traipsing around in the sewer all day. With rubber boots covered in filth, maybe she had.

"I don't know any Irma," Raphael announced. "How about you guys?"

Donatello and Michelangelo shook their heads.

Leonardo was getting suspicious. What if this was some sort of trap to get them to drop their guard? He took his own flashlight, scraping it along the walls to see if there was any place where enemies could hide. At the same time, he moved protectively between his brothers and the human, backing them away from her. It was time to get his family out of there.

"Stay right there," he ordered the human. "Don't move from that spot. We are leaving."

The girl finally looked worried. "What? But I just found you. Don't go yet. Please, Leo?"

The fact that she knew his name caused the leader to pause. How did she know them? Who was she? He squinted at her face, wracking his brain for answers. Where had he met her before?

"You guys don't remember me at all, do you?" Irma said in disappointment.

"Look, we don't know you, okay?" Raphael pressed, also eager to get his brothers out. "Go home and don't follow us."

"But I know you," she insisted. "We met when we were kids. We played together. Don't you remember?"

She was answered with four blank faces.

"Here, look," Irma said as she frantically dug in her backpack. "I still have it from when we were little." She dug out an old notebook with faded yellow paper, rainbows and a unicorn on the cover. "See? I make lists of everything. I wrote this down when I met you so I could tell you apart."

She showed them words scrawled by an adolescent hand with thick lead. A very simple list:  
Mike – Orange  
Don – Purple  
Leo – Blue  
Raph – Red

Donatello was rubbing his chin, trying to think up possibilities. Leonardo's jaw was hanging open. Raphael was getting angry at the confusing situation.

Michelangelo pushed through all of them to the front, staring at the girl with wide eyes as a light bulb suddenly flashed in his brain.

"Ooma?"

* * *

Minutes later, Leonardo found himself kneeling before his sensei. To his left were Donatello and Raphael. To his right was the human girl, in their lair, all their secrets bare before her. The blue clad turtle was still trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why had he let Michelangelo just grab her and take her home with them?

"So you found this girl when you were children, my sons?" Splinter repeated, not sure if he heard right. He kept eying Irma as if the girl were going to suddenly mutate into a flesh-eating monster. But she smiled brightly at him, happy and excited to be in their company.

"Yeah, I mean, we heard her first," Raphael cut in. "She was lost and we heard her bawling up a storm near a drain outlet, so we went to see what it was. What were we, like six or so?"

The old rat narrowed his eyes. "You were up playing around the surface that young? Talking to a human?"

"Er..." Raphael stammered, not sure what was a safe answer.

Splinter shook his head. "Some days I wonder just how many times you broke those rules without my knowledge."

Donatello and Leonardo shared glances with each other. They would take that knowledge with them to their graves if they could.

"In our defense, Sensei," Donatello tried, "we weren't aware we were breaking the 'don't show yourself to humans' rule. We didn't know she was human at the time."

"Right!" Raphael jumped in, eager to get Splinter to stop glaring at him. "Remember the Ooma Monster? That's her! That's the Ooma Monster!"

Splinter furrowed his bushy brows, mouth slightly opened as if he were going to speak. Now that it was mentioned, he remembered back when his sons were very young, how they talked nonstop about a "monster" they had played with. It had been one of the many times the turtles had wandered off. Splinter had spent the whole day searching for them while they claimed they spent the day befriending a strange creature they found. They referred to it as the Ooma Monster and the story was so strange, Splinter had assumed their new friend was completely fabricated by their active minds.

He recalled, however, that their stories of the activities had all been strangely cohesive. If it was an imaginary friend, why did his sons never play with this so called monster again? After a while, the Ooma was mentioned less and less until it had escaped everyone's recollection.

"Here guys, I found them," Michelangelo called from his room where he had been rifling through papers. "I still kept them all this time." He ran to join his bothers at their master's feet, sliding to his knees in his eagerness. "Here's the pictures we drew you, Splinter, so you could see what it looked like. Remember?"

He splayed the old papers out on the floor, corners yellowed with age, drawings created by young turtles with broken crayons. Michelangelo recalled fondly that night when they all sat together at the table, trying their best to draw their new friend to absolute accuracy for their father.

Michelangelo's picture did have the tufts of brown hair, but giant black, soulless eyes and a mouth full of jagged teeth. A young Leonard's drawing also included the brown hair and glasses, but the body was hugely deformed with a thick hump on the back, almost as if he were trying to give her a shell, too. Raphael's wasn't even close with a duck-like body and purple tentacles.

Splinter gave the red clad turtle a doubtful glance.

"I was six!" he insisted as if recalling how inaccurate his picture was. "I ain't no artist, Sensei!"

Donatello's was the most accurate one. The picture somewhat resembled a humanoid with brown pigtails, but there was a mesh of wire over the face.

"Oh yeah, I had braces when I was little," Irma explained as she stood next to Splinter, looking at the pictures. "I had to wear this metal headset all the time. It probably looked pretty weird to someone who had no idea what it was. Maybe I was a bit monstrous to them. And I couldn't say my name well. With all that wire, it probably did sound like Ooma."

Splinter gave her a look that clearly spelled out she wasn't welcome in his personal space. Irma quickly slunk back to her spot next to Leonardo. The giant rat had been something unexpected for Irma. She remembered the four boys from their single encounter, and she recalled them mentioning they had a father, but she had pictured just a bigger version of them. Not a giant rat. And they called him Sensei. This was so intriguing, so _exciting_!

Splinter lowered his calculating gaze onto her. "While I understand the five of you shared a childhood memory, Miss Irma, I can't help but wonder why you have sought out my sons now?"

Irma gave a helpless shrug. "I thought I was going to _help_ you guys. I remember the four of you differently as well. You're not human, you're _turtles_." She gave a gentle tug on Leonardo's shell. "I thought you were humans with horrible birth defects."

"Hey!" Raphael barked in offense.

"I've been going to school, studying human genetics all this time in hopes of being of assistance to you. Now I don't know what I was studying for."

Donatello perked up at that statement, but Leonardo spoke first.

"How did you ever find us after all these years? We don't even live in the same lair we did back then."

"Oh! I'm glad you asked," Irma said brightly as she pulled out her bag. The thing was dirty and worn as if it had been scraped against many a sewer wall for years. She dug around and pulled out several maps littered in red marks, spreading them on the floor.

"It was just a process of elimination and working through the city in grids, really. To be honest, it wasn't exactly an easy job. I've been trying to locate you guys since I was fourteen. So it's been about three and a half years now.

"The biggest break I had was the sociology paper I wrote on the culture of homeless communities living in the underground tunnels of New York. Did you know there is over 2,000 miles of uncharted tunnels below the city?"

"Yeah, we know," Donatello said.

"When I asked some of the people I interviewed if they knew of four deformed people running around in the tunnels, some of them knew what I was talking about."

"Can we stop with the deformed talk?" Raphael griped.

Irma ignored him. "They refer to you as the 'Water People'. You are always seen in tunnels with running water. The same tunnels most people avoid because, well, they're full of water."

Leonardo knew what she meant. The family was well aware they shared the city's underground with the rather large homeless communities of New York City. The reptiles chose to live in the catacombs that contained the city's constant runoff. The humans avoided the flooded areas while the turtles thrived. It was the perfect fit. And little did the humans know, that after a long trek through the water, it led to a very spacious lair that was warm and dry.

"So I stuck with the water tunnels and then just slowly worked my way through the city. Hence why I wear those." Irma pointed to the muddy rubber boots plopped near the entrance of the lair. "The random sitings of you guys that pop up on the internet really helped me narrow down the most likely locations."

Splinter frowned. Did he even want to know how many blurry pictures of his sons turned up on conspiracy theory websites? The past few years had been tough on their never ending quest to remain the shadows. There was always another calamity, another battle that forced them out of hiding and to the surface. The fact that this human had found his family by herself worried him. Even if it had taken her almost four years to do so. Who else would be able to find them if they really wanted to?

"I still can't believe I found you guys!" Irma was still talking. "Of all the things I imagined when I found you, I never expected any of _this_!" She motioned grandly to the lair around her. "Look at this place! Fully refitted with modern conveniences and technology. And you guys, not humans, but mutated animals. All with levels of intelligence. This is probably the most important scientific discovery of my generation! Maybe of all history!"

"Except you can't tell anyone about it," Leonardo said sternly, breaking her bubble.

"Yeah," Raphael cut in. "We ain't going to be no lab experiments, locked up in glass cages to be poked and prodded at, you got me?"

Irma's eyes went wide. "Oh no! Of course not! Guys, you can trust me. We're friends. I wouldn't sell you out." She put a reassuring hand on Leonardo's arm and suddenly his muscles had all her attention. "Wow!" She gaped, a little flushed groping his bicep. "You're really strong, like... like..."

"Can you please stop doing that?" Leonardo said with fading patience.

"Sorry," Irma quickly removed her hand, smiling sheepishly. But she kept eying his muscles and soon she was feeling up his arm again.

Leonardo sighed.

"Irma, let me show you around the place," Michelangelo jumped in, clearly the most excited of the brothers to have a new friend. "I can show you my room. It's so awesome. Do you like comic books? You know Donnie is into science and stuff, too?"

Irma smiled at Donatello. "Is he?" she asked with that tone reserved for children who say they want to be astronauts when they grow up. Boy, was she in for a surprise.

"Oh yeah, he has a lab and everything," Michelangelo continued. "I'm sure he'll show you all his toys. He's quiet now, but once you get him talking about science you can't shut him up."

Donatello was rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

"I would love to see everything," Irma agreed as she pulled out her phone to check the time. No bars down there. "But it's almost midnight and I need to get back home." She turned to look at Splinter. "Would it be alright if I came back tomorrow? I promise I'll be careful. It will just be me."

Splinter hesitated. This girl had no idea how dangerous it was to know them. But neither did April when she stumbled into their lives. And through all the things his family had experienced over the last few years, Splinter had come to accept that some lives were meant to be intertwined for a reason. Fate had caused this girl to find them now, just as it had meant for his sons to find her all those years ago.

Irma mistook his silence for possible rejection and pressed harder. "Please?" She folded her hands under her chin and gave the old rat her best cutesy face. "I'll bring doughnuts."

The dubious faces of some of his sons suddenly brightened a little at the mention of being fed.

"Yes, that will be fine," the master conceded. "My sons will show you how to properly find the lair without tripping the alarm or having to use those." Splinter nodded to her muddy boots.

"Thank you!" Irma gushed as she stood. She looked like she wanted to hug him. "This really means a lot to me. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Splinter."

The old rat placed a hand at her elbow and leaned in. "And if you could, I would love a bear claw."

Irma grinned. "You got it."

"Yo guys," a masculine New York accent called. "Am I interrupting a family meetin'?"

Casey Jones paraded confidently into the room, as he did when entering all rooms. He paused when he noticed that there was one extra body in the lair that night, a human he had never seen before.

She was staring stupidly right at him as if everything else around them had disappeared.

"Uh, hey there... person I don't know," Casey said, suddenly feeling weird about being ogled.

"Hi..." she managed to get out with a besot expression. "I'm Irma."

"Uh... Casey."

"You're cute, Casey," Irma grinned as she moved closer. "You have a girlfriend?"

"Woah, woah!" Casey barked, jumping back several feet from the girl. "Are you even legal? How old are you?"

"Seventeen," she said quietly, knowing full well her skinny body and youthful features made her appear about two years younger.

"Not even touching that. 'Sides, I gotta girlfriend already." He held up his hands in surrender and then looked over at the turtles. "What are you up to tonight Raph? Couldn't sleep. I though you could help me work on my motorcycle."

Everyone knew working on the motorcycle was code for going out into the city looking for some hoodlum heads to bust. Even Splinter knew. But it had become such a habit for the two, no one could bring themselves to care about what Raphael and Casey did any more. Which had been almost every night lately since April was out of town visiting her sister.

"Yeah," Raphael agreed as he shouldered past his brothers. "I probably wasn't going to get much sleep either. I'll help you out."

"Take Irma with you," Splinter suggested. "Make sure she gets home safely. It is very late."

Both looked at him with a pained "Do I have to?" type expression.

"I'll take her home," Michelangelo piped up. "I don't mind."

"Such a gentlemen," Irma said as she put on her boots, hardly offended by previous attitudes.

"Owe you one, Mikey," Raphael said lowly as he slapped his brother's shell.

"Yup," he agreed, watching Casey and the red clad turtle escape while they could. Then Michelangelo turned back to Irma. "Stick with me. I'll show you the best way to get here without getting your feet wet."

She grinned back. "Can't wait.

* * *

Irma said she lived with her grandma in a tiny apartment tucked away between two much taller buildings. Michelangelo politely said good night and made sure no one had seen him. But once done with his task, he did not head back home. Irma wasn't the reason he had volunteered to leave the lair.

Moving by rooftops, the turtle hoofed it to another neighborhood, one he was more familiar with. He hoped a certain apartment window still had its lights on. Not that he doubted the inhabitant was still awake, he just hoped she was home.

Sliding silently down the fire escape, Michelangelo was pleased to see there was a light on in the kitchen. Balancing on the rail, he knocked at the window. A few moments later, it opened and a blonde head poked out.

"Hey, you're just in time to help me," was the only greeting he got before she disappeared back inside.

That was all the invitation needed and Michelangelo climbed inside.

"Got anything to eat, Kala?" he asked once he was in the living room.

"I dunno, you can check," called the voice from the bedroom. "Feel free to help yourself."  
Kala was one of those weird girls who actually enjoyed eating healthy. Sometimes there was pizza or soda in her fridge from the weekend, but it was rare. Michelangelo already knew that about her and settled for a banana he found on the kitchen counter. As he took a bite, he wandered toward the bedroom and poked his head in.

"So what's up for tonight?"

Kala stepped out, dressed in a gray zip up hoodie and a red pleated skirt. She pulled out a heavy draw string bag that was stuffed to capacity.

"Tonight's laundry night," she sang as she dropped the bag at Michelangelo's feet.

"Tonight? Isn't it a little late to go out by yourself for that?"

"No choice," Kala insisted as she moved to the closet. "I procrastinated too long and now I'm out of clean undies." She pulled out a brown trench coat, much too large for herself. "Besides, I'll be safe," she added as she helped Michelangelo put it on. "I'll be with you."

"So it's a good thing I showed up, huh?" He grabbed a worn fedora from the closet's top shelf.  
"My hero. Always sensing when I'm in need of help."

She went to get her laundry detergent while Michelangelo took it upon himself to sling the heavy bag of clothes over his shoulder. After shuffling her feet into a pair of neon green flip-flops, Kala led the way out the door and locked it behind them. Michelangelo let her continue in front down the very narrow hall, happy to watch her pert little behind beneath that bouncy skirt.

The apartment she lived in was kind of a dive. Cracks in the walls and no laundry facilities on site. There was a 24 hour joint only two blocks down, but the neighborhood wasn't the best. That's why Michelangelo liked checking up on her. A pretty girl like Kala, living all alone, needed someone to make sure she was alright now and then; despite the fact that she insisted she was a tough city girl who could take care of herself.

Michelangelo wished he could say they met after he had saved her from a mugger or something equally adventurous and romantic. But it was not so serendipitous as that. Kala had happened upon him two years ago when they were both sixteen. She was working at a comic book store and had busted the turtle when he was fishing through the trash for discarded back issues.

It was an almost comical meeting. Kala proved in their first encounter that she was no normal girl when she banged on the side of the massive garbage bin to get his attention. While Michelangelo looked at her like a rabbit in front of a semi she had calmly asked, "Yo, turtle-man, what are you looking for? We've got better issues inside."

From then on, Kala was Michelangelo's number one comic book hook up. Sometimes he would send her with cash for his issues to use the employee discount. Other times she surprised him with some freebies. Michelangelo was never sure if she actually paid for those particular comics and he never asked.

She worked at some 24 hour call center now, which was why she kept odd hours. Sometimes she still surprised him with comic books. But that wasn't the only reason the turtle still dropped in on her now and then. He liked her company. She was fun to be with and not exactly hard to look at. Her eyes were big and blue, appearing even bigger with all the eye makeup she liked to wear. Her fine, platinum hair was usually in a short pixie cut; sometimes with stray colors. Lately, she had discovered a love for tanning booths, resulting in her skin being a more caramel color these days.

It was mid September. The chilly air of fall had yet to sweep in. Not exactly trench coat season. But the midnight New York pedestrians never cared what you wore. The cute young girl clopping companionably next to the suspicious character with the shadowed face didn't seem to mind his presence, and no one really noticed him as they reached their destination.

Inside the laundromat, it was almost too warm for comfort from the dryers of previous clients. But no one was in their now. Perfect.

Kala got to work loading her clothes into various washers while Michelangelo plopped himself in a chair and grabbed a nearby magazine. He glanced back at her and his eyes nearly bugged out of his mask when he saw her nonchalantly shimmy out of the panties she was wearing and toss them in as well. He quickly returned his gaze back to the magazine and pretended not to have seen anything.

Once the washers were dutifully swishing, Kala pulled up an extra chair where they could both prop up their feet and the plopped herself next to her friend, resting her head on his shoulder with a big sigh. Michelangelo looked away from his magazine to watch their feet, propped up side by side. The big, great two toed digits and then the dainty little human toes with pink glittery polish on the nails. Kala had asked him once if she could paint his toenails. While he had no idea why should would want to do such a thing, he had to refuse. It wasn't because his masculinity couldn't handle painted toenails, it was because of the questions he would get from his brothers.

No one in his family knew about Kala and Michelangelo wanted to keep it that way. He knew it was selfish, but he just wanted one thing that he didn't have to share- one friend that was his alone. As such, he never told Kala about his world either. Luckily, she wasn't too nosy. Most of the time she was happy to accept that a large mutant turtle existed in the world, and he was her friend and leave it at that.

At first, she had greatly worried he had no where to live and was all by himself so Michelangelo was forced to tell her that yes, he did have a place to live and he had a family. But she didn't know that family consisted of three turtle brothers and a rat father.

Kala, on the other hand, told Michelangelo everything. Any and every thought that met her mind she shared with him. He figured it was her way of trying to get him to open up more and talk about his personal life. It never worked. He, however, knew she was "raised" by a single mother, in the loosest sense of the word. The woman was never sober, abused prescriptions and any illegal drugs she could get a hold of. Kala had more memories of her mother passed out on the couch or on the bathroom floor with a needle in her arm than she had of her and her mother having enjoyable interaction with each other.

Any attempt Kala made to help her mother get back on her feet was met with shouting, rejection and sometimes violence. Kala left when she was fifteen in order to save herself. Her mother had OD'd a little over a year later.

But Kala never let her past get her down. She enjoyed being a responsible adult, taking care of herself, working hard and paying the bills. She was silly. She liked telling bad jokes and wearing bright colors. She liked saying weird things just to see people's reactions. And she liked that she had a very unusual friend that would only visit her under the cover of darkness.

"You know what, Mikey?" she said out of the blue, above the rumble of the washing machines. "When I was a little girl, I had a monster that lived under my bed."

"You did, huh?" the turtle said casually.

"Yes, and it was very difficult to live with my monster for, as you know, my mom was often too inebriated to check for them. Which, as you know, is the absolute defense against monsters- mothers looking under the bed.

"So since I couldn't dispel it that way, I had to live with my monster. Sometimes he would be nice and sleep through the night. Other times he would bump and grumble and growl, and keep me awake. It stayed that way for years until I was too old to have a monster any more. But I still remember what he looked like."

"And what did he look like?" Michelangelo grinned. He was always a fan of random conversations.

Kala leaned back so she could sweep her gaze over his face. "He had green skin, a little tough. Spots here and there. Dark eyes. Most kid's monsters have tons of jagged teeth, but not mine. Mine had a big 'ol beak, razor sharp."

Michelangelo blinked blankly.

"Maybe that's why we grow up," Kala continued. "Monsters and children may assume we are automatically enemies. But when we grow up, we learn we can be friends." She rested her head back onto his shoulder.

Michelangelo thought about it for a moment. Without further information, it was probably the best idea Kala could come up with as to how the turtle even existed. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was a monster who had climbed out from under a little girl's bed years ago, looking for a friend. As such, he should be grateful he had been discovered three years ago by someone who was willing to befriend monsters.

Kala really was kind of weird.

* * *

Central Park was a really great place to go to do some head busting. While not so much for building tops to spy on the city below, there were still plenty of places for a ninja turtle and even his slightly more awkward masked sidekick to skulk in the shadows. Unfortunately, that same type of cover provided great hiding places for local degenerates. It was the reason the Central Park area had become so infamous for being dangerous after dark.

Raphael would have loved to stake out the place for a good couple of weeks until word got around the city's underbelly that Central Park was no longer a welcome place for criminals. But his better sense told him that just wouldn't work. After a while, it would get back to the authorities there was some weird looking vigilante punching thugs in Central Park after dark. The boys in blue would start staking at the area for him. No, it wasn't smart to hit the same place twice in a row.

Still, Raphael and Casey hadn't rousted the scum from Central Park for a while. It was overdue for a little turtle wax. So far that night, they had interrupted two muggings and scared the heck out of a group of boys who were experimenting with a few substances their mamas probably didn't know they had. All in all, not a bad night.

It wasn't the same adrenaline rush that came during the heydays of the Foot. After the banishment of the Shredder, Karai had taken herself and her adopted father's empire back to Japan. Hun's Purple Dragons still lurked the streets, but they had gotten sneakier, more streamlined. It was hard to just catch a Dragon wandering the street looking for trouble anymore. Crime was petty and disorganized on most nights.

"So what is up with this chick I met today?" Casey asked after they decided to call it a night and head for home. His place was clear on the other side of town so he figured he would just follow Raphael back to the lair and crash on the couch. "She seemed a little coo-coo if you ask me."

"Yeah she does," Raphael agreed without hesitation.

"Can you trust her? I mean, you just met her, how do you know she's not gonna immediately tell everyone she found giant turtles in the sewer?"

Raphael just shrugged, not feeling too threatened by the possibility. So many different beings knew of their existence now, some on Earth, some in other galaxies and dimensions. It wasn't the same as when they were little, when the notion of being discovered by the outside world kept them awake at night.

"Nah, I don't think she's the type. Even if she was, do you really think anyone would believe her?"

"Eh, probably not," Casey agreed, shrugging as well.

They were headed for one of the big runoff pipes near the bay, not too far from the sewer treatment plant. No lights anywhere, allowing the two to walk unnoticed in the blackness. Not that there would be anyone around to see. The smell plus the constant dirty run off wasn't too enticing for much more than mosquitoes and stray animals. But as they neared the open tunnel, Raphael's arm shot out to stop Casey in his tracks. Something wasn't right.

"There's something in there," he said, staring hard at the pipe. Inside was even blacker than the night, but Raphael was sure he saw movement in there; movement from something big.

Casey had a small flashlight on him and shined it at the mouth of the pipe. Raphael was right. There was something hunched at the mouth. It was so big, it filled up the entire tunnel, swallowing all the space around it.

"Woah," Casey blurted without thinking.

It was like a scene out of those monster gore movies he watched with the guys when April wasn't around. Even for someone who had been around mutant turtles, giant rats and all sorts of alien life forms, what was revealed in the sweep of the flashlight still looked like a monster to Casey.

It had a shell, which disturbed both of them instantly. Raphael was immediately flashing back to Donatello's episode of over-mutation caused by Bishop's alien experiments. His brother had been changed until he was unrecognizable; massive, savage, mindless. Donatello's mutated form was large, but this shelled creature was bigger.

"You got a cousin I don't know about, Raph?" Casey said, trying to hide the alarm that was climbing into his chest.

Its shell was covered in spikes that shined with a metallic sheen. The creature turned, terrapin shaped head and sharp beak exposed to the light. Blood dripped from the mouth, and there was something gruesome and half eaten in his clutches. The top half was gone, the pale stub of the spine and intestines glittered wetly in the light. The body was still wearing clothes from the waist down. Both Raphael and Casey felt sick at the sight. It had been eating a person.

The massive turtle creature slowly turned its head to look at them, as if it had all the time in the world. It glared darkly at the forms shining light in its face, growling deep in its throat. Then, it smiled at them. _Smiled._ A cruel, satisfied expression, as if it knew their fear and disgust, and it was pleased.

Raphael was backing them both away, knowing they were standing far too close to something so big. But when he saw that look, that there was intelligence and malice in that form, he knew they were really in danger. His other hand was slowly reached for his sai.

The creature saw the glimmer of the weapon and anger surged on its face. It threw what was left of the blood-soaked corpse aside and charged, red teeth bared in a snarl.

The vigilantes lunged to get out of the way as the monster attacked with the swiping of claws and gnashing of teeth. Casey scrambled aside, trying to grab a weapon from his pack. On his haste, he spilled everything he carried as he yanked out a hockey stick.

Raphael already had weapons in hand upon the attack. He leapt in the air as the massive turtle surged forward, rebounding off the head to try and slice at the back of the neck. The big turtle's shell protected it from the attack, but Raphael heard the sound of metal against metal when he scraped the shell. His surprise at hitting something inorganic shattered his landing and he stumbled back.

The creature rounded on him, face split wide in that maddening grin.

"Well, aren't you interesting," the larger turtle said in a low, masculine voice.

The words rumbled deep from the turtle's chest and brought goosebumps all the way up to the nape of Raphael's neck. There was something about this voice that chilled him. It sounded soulless, evil.

"_I'm_ interesting," Raphael shot back. "You were eating somebody! No one does that in my town, ugly, not even a monster like you." He pointed the tip of his sai at the larger turtle for emphasis.

The turtle bared blood-stained teeth, his gaze sharp, voice deep and slow like an engine. "I am no monster. I am... a nightmare."

Raphael couldn't help but stare, eyes a little wider.

The song of a hockey stick whistled through the air and cracked against the skull of the giant turtle. The wood shattered upon impact. The turtle slowly turned his head, murder in his eyes as he growled.

Casey stared at the red, bared teeth, frozen. Raphael lunged forward, grabbing his arm and pulled him away as the turtle snapped at them.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Casey repeated like a mantra as the two sprinted across the moss and muddy gravel. "That thing's super charged!"

"Shut up and run!" Raphael shot back.

The beast lolloped after them, gaining ground despite the heavier form. It was all muscle and sprang forward at a frightening speed. Like a predator after his prey. Casey sensed the monstrosity close in, felt the foul breath on his back, before a heavy claw swiped him right off his feet. He heard Raphael bark out his name as he skidded over the ground. Casey rolled to a stop, trying to find his balance again.

Something glittered around the creature's ankle as he approached. Caught by a distant street light, Casey noticed a thick manacle with broken chain. Someone had shackled this monster- and they did a crappy job of it.

The turtle picked Casey off the ground with one hand, claws digging into the flesh. Casey growled against the pain and pressure.

"Human," he rumbled, gaze dead and unmerciful. "You control our kind no longer." Turning in Raphael's direction, he added. "I will rip this shackle from you."

"That's my friend!" Raphael barked back. With flash of sais, he was on top of the larger mutant, scraping the pointed edges along the impenetrable shell. "Put him down!" He managed to stab into the flesh where the neck was exposed at the base of the shoulder.

The turtle roared in pain, forgetting his human prey and flinging Casey aside. The thick neck stretched out, teeth sinking into Raphael's thigh. He jerked and grunted as he felt the flesh give way under the blunt and powerful jaws. The monster picked him up by the leg, shook him like a dog with prey, and then slammed him to the ground. Raphael was delirious from the collision when the massive head descended upon him, jaws ripping into his arm. Raphael struggled to fight back as his mind suddenly panicked.

_This thing is EATING me! _he thought with horror. He could take mindless monsters or battles with sentient warriors. But something intelligent trying to tear him apart chunk by chunk just about broke his brain. He knew he was done for, there was nothing he could do as he felt the flesh of his arm give way.

There was a battle cry above the wet sound of flesh and teeth, the creature was tackled from his prey as Casey rammed into him with all his strength. There was a metal baseball bat in his hands now and he went after the monster's skull again. The metal sang upon collision, the bat vibrating in Casey's hands with each strike. It was like hitting solid rock. The skull would not crack, no matter how many times he hit it. But the creature was stunned; eyes wide and white, mouth foaming. His clawed limbs moved feebly as he rolled on his shell, trying to regain his senses.

Casey ran for his bleeding friend, yanking the Raphael to his feet with a strength born from pure adrenaline. The turtle was clearly in shock, skin pale, eyes unfocused. Raphael's torn leg bled freely, but attempted to hold his weight. An equally mangled arm hung lifeless at his side. Casey knew they needed to stop the bleeding fast, but all the band-aids in the world wouldn't matter if they didn't get away from their attacker first.

"Come on, Raph, we gotta run or we're going to be torn to shreds!"

The verbal order put Raphael's body on automatic. With Casey's help, they fled the scene as fast as they could manage. There was a manhole not too far, if they could just make it to the street.

A savage roar sounded behind them as the creature righted himself and stumbled to unsteady feet, shaking his head.

Faster! Casey's mind panicked. We gotta move faster!

The streetlight was up ahead, illuminating their deliverance. An feral roar sounded at their backs, the ground shaking as the massive body thundered after them.

Almost there, almost there.

Case was practically dragging Raphael by the time they made it to the manhole cover. He felt he would jump right out of his skin as panic tried to take over. Casey ripped off the cover, unable to look at the monstrosity charging for them, afraid seeing it would freeze him in his tracks. Any second he expected teeth to clamp down on his shoulder.

The monster surged over them and Casey shoved Raphael down the hole, jumping in next himself without using the ladder. He felt the heat of fetid breath before falling into darkness and landing regrettably on a groaning Raphael.

The light from above was blocked as the creature shoved his head down the hole, neck stretching, jaws gnashing and spraying pink flecks of spittle. He let out a savage, but futile roar. The turtle's body could not fit. He shoved and scrambled to get at his pray, pounding the blacktop and causing bits of debris to rain on the two, but everything held fast.

Casey dragged Raphael's twitching body further into the darkness. The red clad turtle was in heavy shock and barely responsive. Removing his shirt, Casey ripped it to shreds and set about pinning the hanging flesh back in place, trying to staunch the bleeding. The snarling was still at his back and he forced himself to ignore it. They were safe. He just had to get Raphael put back together and then get him to the lair. Everything would be all right then.

Once having used every free scrap of cloth he had, Casey hefted his friend over his shoulder. With a parting glance toward the frustrated cries, he disappeared into the darkness. The monster screamed after them, calling for their blood in a voice halfway between cognizance and a waking nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2: Old Wounds

In the Genes  
Chapter Two: Old Wounds

A little girl was crying, Raphael could hear her somewhere in the darkness. He ran through the winding sewer tunnels, but never seemed to get any closer. The crying was coming from everywhere, needing his help, causing his heart to beat faster. Then finally, she appeared up ahead. A hunched figure with a sprout of brown pigtails, the only thing illuminated in the pitch. Raphael walked up to her, hand reached out to the sobbing child to give aid.

Then the girl turned, morphing as she moved, sprouting bulges and strange tendril- like limbs. Eyes black and soulless, she snapped at him with razor-edged teeth. Then the form grew; bigger, darker, heavier. Burning eyes full of hate pinned Raphael in place and the mouth opened into an impossibly wide maw. Raphael could not force his body to react, neither to fight nor to run, as the beast's jaws clamped down on his flesh. He felt the pain as his body tore to pieces, and the monster swallowed him chunk by chunk.

Raphael gave a startled cry as he sat up, blanket pooled in his lap. The large, orange cat that had been napping on his plastron trilled in surprise and skittered off to Michelangelo's room. Raphael glanced around his surroundings to see he was safe at home, set to bed on the couch in front of their multi-screen entertainment system, which was playing History channel at low decibels at the time.

"Oh hey, you're awake."

There was a human girl standing before him with brown hair and thick glasses. She had a bucket in her hands. For a moment, Raphael flashed back to his nightmare before recalling he had previously met this girl. It was before he had been out and... Raphael felt a little queasy.

"Sensei, Raph's awake," Irma hollered to all the lair in general. She knelt next to the couch, wringing out a cool rag and placing it on his bare face. All his gear had been removed and his skin was slick with sweat. "You've had a very high fever for the past two days. You should lay back and rest."

Raphael was already feeling woozy from sitting up so fast. He eased himself back down, a little grouchy when the girl moved to help him. His muscles were stiff, tiny pin pricks of pain pulled at his flesh every time he moved. He was suddenly reminded of the damage he took and Raphael quickly inspected himself.

When his flesh had been ripped, the turtle was extremely lucky most of it had stayed hanging on. There were a few tiny divots missing, but the greater chunks ripped from his leg and arm were pressed back to their rightful locations with stitches. Due to the fastidiousness of the stitching space, Raphael knew it was none other than Donatello's work.

Both wounds were left exposed, allowing them to drain of puss and fluids while his fever broke. Irma pressed another cloth to Raphael's weeping arm wound before inspecting the swollen flesh above his knee.

"You've been takin' care of me all this time?" Raphael asked, his tone soft with realization.

"Of course I have," Irma chirped back. "How could I pass this up? I've learned so much about your biochemistry in the past two days."

It was then Raphael noticed all the notebooks scattered around the floor, full of charts and data. The turtle frowned, suddenly feeling like a grade school science project.

"Raphael," a calm, sage voice spoke before he could offer a retort. "I am relieved to see you are awake, my son. We have been worried about you."

Though laying down, he still shrugged it off when Splinter felt his forehead for any remains of the fever that had raged through him the days before. "Eh, I'm fine, Sensei. You know I don't go down for long." He finally noticed the IV needle taped to the back of his hand and picked it out, throwing it to the floor in distaste.

"You have lost much blood," Splinter counseled. "You will stay in bed for the next few days until you regain your strength, I insist on it."

Raphael hummed a disapproving sound under his breath and a glass of water was thrust in his face.

"Glad to see you're doing better," Leonardo said above the proffered drink. He tried to feel his brother's temperature like Splinter had, but Raphael immediately slapped the hand away. Instead, Raphael snatched the glass and gulped it down, suddenly realizing how parched his was.

"Another," Raphael said, thrusting out the now empty glass.

Leonardo took it wordlessly and, with a small smile, went back to the kitchen for a refill. His brother was going to be just fine.

At this time, Donatello and Michelangelo wandered in to check on the patient.

"Dude, welcome back to the land of the living," the orange clad turtle greeted. "We heard all about you tangling with Turtlezilla!"

"Yeah, he almost kept a piece of me as a souvenir," Raphael quipped. "What do you know about it?"

"Casey covered the basics," Michelangelo said. "Giant talking turtle. Likes to eat people. Almost ate you. You screamed like a little girl and he saved your shell."

"Did he mention its nasty breath?"

"Yes, he told us that, too. In detail," Donatello put in as he knelt to inspect his swollen leg. Raphael had a sinking feeling that Dr. Don was going to prescribe some shots soon enough.

Klunk had stalked back into the room by now, curious what his family was up to. He jumped on Donatello's back, perching on the rim of his shell to see what was going on.

"Klunk, no. Uncle Donny's working." Michelangelo reached to retrieve his cat. Under the family's care, the orange feline had now tripled in weight and size since he had been brought home as a kitten. Picking him up now was no light task.

Especially when he didn't want to be removed. The claws came out, scraping over Donatello's shell before catching on his purple mask tails and yanking his head back.

"Mikey!"

"Bad Klunk, let go," Michelangelo said as he tried to untangle the cat's claws.

"That damn cat is so nosy," Raphael grouched. "He needs to mind his own business."

"He just likes being with the family." Michelangelo hugged Klunk while the cat's tail twitched in irritation.

Leonardo appeared with another glass of water and Raphael chugged it down.

"So did Casey tell you this giant turtle had a metal shell?"

Donatello was intrigued. "Metal? Are you sure?"

"Hey, I know what metal on metal sounds like. The shell looked fake, you know? It had spikes on it, like-"

"Like Bowser!" Michelangelo piped in.

"Like it was man-made."

"So this was possibly a creature mutated deliberately with a specific purpose in mind," Donatello surmised.

Raphael could only shrug to that. "Your guess is as good as mine, Donnie."

"We cleaned up the scene of yours and Casey's DNA before the police got there," Leonardo said in a soft tone. "We've been hunting for that other turtle ever since. No sign of it yet."

"You should wait until I go with you," Raphael informed him. "This thing is huge, Leo. You'll need all the help you can get." He had said that half out of concern for this brothers, but also because he wanted to be there to return blood for blood personally. Raphael needed to face down those eyes again. He would not let them continually haunt his nightmares.

"You rest first, Raphael," Splinter said sternly. There was no room for compromise.

"You'll probably need to put in some physical therapy, too, for those torn muscles," Donatello added. "It's going to be a rough road until you'll be back to full speed."

"Oh! I'll do it! I'll help!" Irma offered, raising her hand as if she were in grade school.

Raphael withered. "Oh no, Sensei, not her. Please."

The wizened rat looked around. "Anyone else wish to help Raphael while he recovers?"

The room was silent.

Raphael glared at his brothers. "All of you can go straight to hell."

* * *

Irma became Raphael's self-appointed nurse and physical therapist. Everyone knew he was not happy about it at all and the brothers were secretly taking bets on when he would finally explode on his caregiver. But the turtle's temper was no match for this human girl.

She had such a tiny form; so helpless and breakable. Raphael would feel his irritation start to grow and it would immediately dissipate when she knelt next to him, asking how he was feeling with that hopeful smile. His eyes always immediately focused on her shoulders. It was like a hanger wearing a shirt. How could he stay mad at someone he could snap like a twig? Plus, she did cook for him and she wasn't too bad at it either. Raphael also had a hard time staying angry at anyone who fed him.

Since school hadn't started yet, she showed up faithfully to check Raphael's temperature, clean his wounds, and replace the bandages. She loved every minute of it, piles of data from her experience always spread around on the floor. Soon her lap top joined her on her daily excursions underground, full of information spread sheets. Donatello had assisted her in filling in the gaps of information, but also made her promise what was gathered in the lair, stayed in the lair. Irma seemed quite alright with that as well.

When the guys were home, Michelangelo spent the most time with his bedridden brother, reading him stories from his comic books or insisting the three of them play video games. Donatello and Leonardo would sometimes join in, rotating out the odd man since there was only four controllers.

Splinter watched them as he passed from the kitchen to his room. This girl Irma seemed to fit right in with his boys. Yes, she had a very odd personality, quite unlike Ms. O'Neal in so many ways. But his sons seemed perfectly comfortable with her. Perhaps it wasn't just because they were now used to human company, but because she was one of the very few beings they knew that was their own age.

Everyone else, even April and Casey, were adults. Splinter's boys, his children, had been forced to live in the world of grown ups for a long time. It probably did them good to be immature with someone their own age now and then.

When Raphael was healed enough for physical therapy, Irma was right there with him. Dressed in bright yellow sweats that looked as though they had never been worn before, she attacked the training room with single minded determination.

"Make sure he does not push himself too hard on the first day," Splinter said as he momentarily poked his head in.

"Okay, Sensei," Irma sang back.

She had taken to referring to Splinter as "Sensei" since the day she had spent at an unconscious Raphael's side with the old rat. The two had carefully monitored his condition while Splinter told her the story of their origins. Certain things, such as the shredder and all alien life related to him, were omitted. Irma had listened with wide eyes, hand always testing Raphael's temperature, as Splinter regaled her with the tail of his master Yoshi's life and how he, a pet rat, found himself in the sewer alone with four baby turtles.

Ever since then, Irma used the title of Sensei. It wasn't so much a title of respect like it was for the brothers, more a term of endearment. Irma adored Splinter and was always bringing him gifts to garnish his favor. The old rat didn't seem to mind in the least.

"Are you sure that's where you want to start?" Irma asked as Raphael headed straight to his punching bag. "Sensei said to take it easy. You don't want to rip your stitches?"

"Look, I've been trainin' my whole life, okay?" Raphael shot back. "I know what my body can handle. Now you can help me or you can get outta here. It's your choice."

He was hoping for the latter, but Irma put on a serious face. "Fine, I'll stay. But I'm going to be watching you." She pointed two fingers to her eyes and then two fingers to the turtle. "You start overdoing it and I'm narking to Sensei."

Raphael grumbled something in acquiesce and Irma stepped up to the punching bag, holding it in place.

He gave her a dubious look. "You sure you wanna do that, small fry? You probably couldn't even make 90 pounds soaking wet. I could easily send you flying across the room."

The tiny girl seemed even more determined as she held the punching bag and planted her feet. "I can do it."

"Alright..." For a moment, Raphael was tempted to hit it as hard as he could just to watch her sail across the practice mats. But then he decided maybe he shouldn't be a total dick since she was helping him and all. Still, he decided he'd give her a pretty good first punch just to shake her up, so she would understand what she was dealing with.

Raphael jabbed at the bag. Pain ripped through his arm and the connection was a mere fraction of the force he had expected.

"I think we should try something a little lower key," Irma suggested as she watched him rub his wound with a growl. "You got your flesh nearly torn from your body. Just sewing it back in place isn't going to magically fix it."

The surly turtle was still growling, but he knew she was right. He had been bruised, scraped, even stabbed. But he had never had the muscle practically ripped from his bones before. He couldn't count on his mutant genetics to heal this overnight.

Irma put Raphael to work, sitting at a bench and lifting weights so small even April would have snorted in derision. But it burned to push himself. He could feel every stitch pulling at his flesh as his arm moved and soon the turtle was sweating with pain and exertion.

Irma took her job seriously. When she thought Raphael had pushed too far, she made him rest. She would constantly check the bandages, make him alternate between the arm and injured leg in his exercises.

Raphael didn't want to admit it, but training with her wasn't so bad. It was better than having Splinter constantly eying him with a master's judgment. Or Leonardo watching with vague disapproval for being attacked in the first place. The human girl judged him not, she was only interested in his recovery. When he hurt, she hurt for him. When he improved, she shared in his triumph.

During one such session, Leonardo came in to practice at the opposite side of the room. He switched on the battered TV in the corner so he could listen to the evening news while he did his warm up stretches.

"Another mutilated body was found early this morning," the news anchorman said in a somber tone. "This brings the count up to three since the remains of the first victim was found over a week ago. What was first thought to be the random acts of a large, escaped animal, now officials are considering the possibility that these are purposeful attacks by one or more human beings."

By then, Raphael had paused in his weights to listen.

"Each of the victims was a Caucasian male in his mid thirties. Clean cut, brown hair, brown eyes. The FBI has recently been brought onto the case to catch the killer now known as the New York Slasher. Authorities urge all civilians to not go out alone and to stay indoors whenever possible until this serial killer is caught."

"FBI, huh?" Raphael muttered as he went back to his weights. "They're sure going to find a surprise when they catch that guy." He jabbed a finger in the middle of Irma's forehead. "You need to stop coming here by yourself. It's not safe out there for a little twig like you."

"Pffft, I'm fine." she insisted. "I live in a great part of town. Besides, I don't fit the profile. I only have rapists to worry about. That's why I've got my pepper spray."

Raphael was going to inform her that wasn't a sure way to protect oneself when the ring of a shell cell interrupted him. Donatello was standing in the doorway, listening to the newscast as well when his phone went off.

"Oh April, hey!" he greeted when he answered. "How was family time?"

Leonardo perked up at the sound of the name. He hoped he could get in for a quick greeting before Michelangelo caught wind of it and took the phone for himself. Raphael hoped he would be ignored. By now Casey and probably told her about the attack. April would just fuss over him like he was a child.

"Hey Don," April's voice replied over the phone. It sounded uncharacteristically shaky. "I'm so sorry. I have someone here who-"

The phone was taken away from her and a deep, male voice came on the line.

"Hello, Donatello."

The voice was horribly familiar. It sent a shiver of both fear and rage down the turtle's spine.

"Bishop," Donatello hissed, gaining the attention of his two brothers. "Don't you dare hurt her or I'll-"

"The lovely Ms. O'Neal will not be harmed, I assure you," Bishop cut him off. "I merely wish to speak to you and your brothers and this is the fastest way to get your attention."

"Well you have it. Let her go and tell me what you want."

By now, Leonardo was right next to his purple clad brother, trying to listen in with his fists clenched.

"No, not like this. I want to see the four of you face to face."

"It's a trap," Leonardo announced. "We can't trust him."

"You have no choice," Bishop said, obviously having heard him. "Ms. O'Neal will be waiting for you. You will get her back when you come to meet me." He gave Donatello the address of a building top and then promptly hung up. The turtle immediately tried to call back, but the line was cut.

"Bastard," Raphael spat, now standing with his brothers. "What's that slime ball got up his sleeve now?"

"Bishop won't hurt her," Leonardo said with confidence. "He doesn't attack civilians."

"Yeah, it's us he doesn't mind chopping up and experimenting on," Raphael shot back.

"Who's Bishop?" Irma asked in a quiet voice.

"You don't need to know, small fry," Raphael told her. "Stay out of it."

"You're not going, either," Leonardo informed him, "not in your condition."

"What? That's bullshit, Leo! I'm fine."

"You wouldn't even last five minutes in a sparring session with me. You're not fine. You still need to heal. Splinter will agree with me."

Raphael knew he was right on all counts, even though he still didn't agree. With a cry of frustration at his own weakness, he threw one of the weights across the room with his good arm and then stormed out.

* * *

As promised, Bishop was on the indicated rooftop that night. Surprisingly, he was only escorted with only four other armed agents. No helicopters, no hidden surprises. The turtles checked every alley and shadow for a larger ambush, but found nothing. April was in clear view, sitting on a crate and looking extremely put out, but unharmed.

With no choice but to reveal themselves, the three turtles appeared on the rooftop. Bishop's resulting grin was maddening.

"There you are," he said smugly. "I knew you would come. So predictable. So easy to find when one knows how to ferret you out."

"We're here, give April back to us," Leonardo demanded, blades in hand.

"In a moment, first business." Bishop adjusted his glasses, looking as cool as a cucumber. "I'm sure you are aware of the latest string of questionable murders in this city. They've gained my interest. I've had witnesses say they've seen a strange animal prowling around. Some have described it with a large shell, like a giant turtle."

"We don't have anything to do with that," Leonardo insisted.

"Really. Because it certainly wouldn't be the first time one of your brothers mutated out of control and put people in danger."

Donatello growled and moved forward. That was still a sore spot for him. It was a sore spot for all of them. Leonardo put out an arm to keep him back. Bishop wouldn't harm any of his family again if he could help it.

"And that was your fault, not ours. We were trying to clean up _your_ mess."

At that point, Bishop did frown, reminded of his own folly. Leonardo felt slightly vindicated.

"Then why do I only see three of you?" Bishop insisted. "If you are innocent, where's Raphael?"

"Raphael's right here," came a deep, sarcastic voice. Another form appeared over the lip of the roof. The red clad turtle tried to hide his fatigue, but he was covered with a sheen of sweat and breathing deeply.

Leonardo gave his brother a death glare, but Raphael ignored it.

Bishop was intrigued. He moved a few steps forward, only to be blocked by Leonardo's blade. He allowed himself to be held at bay as he looked over the turtle's bandages. "It seems like you've run into your own trouble down there. Was it a giant turtle-like creature that did that to you, Raphael?"

"You can suck on my shell, Bishop, it ain't your business," Raphael barked. He hated it when the agent made a point of using their names, like he knew them so well.

The federal agent stood in silent ponderance for a moment, then he seemed satisfied. "I appreciate your time. Ms. O'Neal may go." Then he turned on his heel. He and his escorts opened the door to the stairwell and were gone.

April jumped to her feet the second she felt she was safe and ran over to them. Donatello instantly inspected her personally for any injury while she insisted she was completely fine.

"See bro?" Raphael said as he approached Leonardo. "Aren't you glad I came? If I hadn't showed up, Bishop would probably be hunting for our lair right now, thinking it was me who attacked those people. At least now he's hunting for some other mutant and off our tails."

Leonardo continued to frown. That still didn't make him happy.

* * *

When they returned to the lair, Casey was already there. It was clear he found out what had happened to his girlfriend by the yelling and the sounds of wood splintering before they even reached the door. When they entered, the group was treated to the scene of Casey raising the last of their chairs over his head, pieces of its unfortunate companions were strewn about his feet.

Irma was swooning in the background at such a feat of masculine strength.

Casey paused in the middle of his tirade when he saw them enter. "Babe! It's you!" The chair was thrown anyway, breaking a leg as Casey ran over to the redhead. "April, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Casey, I'm fine," she insisted as he also tried to check her for injuries. "Nothing happened, really. No one got hurt."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, babe." Casey suddenly clenched his fists. "The next time I see that scumbag, I'm going to kill him!"

April peered around his broad shoulders when she noticed an unfamiliar face in the room. "Um, hello. I don't believe we've met."

Irma was standing next to a forlorn Splinter who was still mourning his kitchen set. She looked from Casey to April. Then to Casey's hand on her hip. She frowned at the redhead. "Yeah, I gotta go home now." And she turned on her heel and left.

"That's Irma," Michelangelo grinned. "She's weird, you'll like her."

April looked at Casey who just gave her a wide-eyed expression and shook his head.

Michelangelo, never one to waist an opportunity, eagerly ran after the teenage girl as she left, offering to take her home once more.

* * *

"Mikey!" Kala greeted and she slid open the window. "What a nice surprise. Feels like I haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, been a little busy," he said as he climbed inside. It had been over a week since they had seen each other last. "Family stuff."

Kala perked up a little at the briefest hint of his personal life. Her eyes wandered over him as if there was something written on his skin that would tell her what he had been up to."Nothing bad, I hope."

Michelangelo knew she was fishing for information. It was so hard not to tell her about Raphael's injuries, how it had scared him when his brother's bleeding body had been dragged home. But this was what he promised himself. It was what he believed would keep her safe and keep her special to only him.

"Nope, nothing bad," he lied.

Kala made no move to hide her disappointment when he did not expound on that.

Michelangelo watched her, silently frowning. This night had dug up old wounds for his family. Donatello's mutation had been one of the most frightening things they had encountered. It wasn't just worry for his brother's well-being, a new fear had been planted in all of them.

Donatello's mutation had been completely accidental. One tiny scratch, one insignificant modicum of a foreign substance was introduced into his body and his entire system had gone haywire. It was terrifying to realize their mutations weren't as stable as they thought.

What if something else got into their bodies? What if they weren't done mutating?Was he a horrible person for keeping this information from her? Should he tell her that one day he may not be the Michelangelo she knew? Maybe they had always been monsters, they just didn't know it yet.

"You okay, Mikey?" Kala wondered as she watched his troubled expression. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Michelangelo quickly pasted on his usual grin. "Nah, I was just worried about you, living out here alone. You've picked up some bad habits since you took that night job. The city isn't safe after dark."

"You mean because of the New York Slasher?" she asked with a certain sort of morbid glee. She pantomimed slicing at the turtle with a big knife. "You think he's going to drag me into an alley and cut me up? Didn't you see the news? I'm not his type. He likes dudes, old ones."

Michelangelo frowned at her. At home, he had always been the goof off, the family clown. But there was something about Kala's devil may care attitude that always brought out the serious side in him. What would his family say if they saw him now?

"I'm serious, Kala. I don't want anything to happen to you. I just want you to be careful, okay?" If only she knew what he knew. If she ever came face to face with that thing that tore up his brother, Michelangelo didn't know how he would stand it.

"Aww..." she crooned as if he were a puppy. "You are so cute. C'mere." She trundled toward him, arms out for a hug.

Michelangelo brushed her away in annoyance. "Don't make fun of me just because I want you to be safe," he pouted. Then he paused as he noticed something. "Hey, you're dressed really nice. Are you going out?"

"Yup, I got a hot date." She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "My boyfriend's coming to pick me up."

"Boyfriend?" Michelangelo squawked. This was news to him.

"Well, we've only gone out twice now. Nothing's official yet but..." She crossed her fingers hopefully.

The turtle was about to let her have a whole string of protests about this when there was a knock at the door.

"Oh shit, that's him!" she hissed, glancing at the clock. "I lost track of the time. You need to go."

Michelangelo didn't budge. "Who is this guy? Do you even know him that well?"

She grinned. "What? Are you afraid he might be the slasher?"

"I highly doubt that," he said in a flat voice.

"Well good then, get your shell out of here. I've got to go!"

He was hustled out the window and, as it closed in his face, Michelangelo couldn't help but feel a little betrayed.

* * *

One would think it would be impossible for a monster-sized turtle to hide in New York, but it wasn't. His silhouette, his form, was so far out of the imagination from the people of this city, if he sat perfectly still, he never registered to them. The grayness, grit and garbage helped him blend. And amidst the piss and the pigeons, the dumpsters and the abandoned cars, he went unnoticed.

Two children walked right next to the alley where he was squatting, a mere five feet away. He watched their brightly colored backpacks bounce, but felt no need to pursue. The reptile in him could sit unmoving for hours. If he found a small ray of sunlight or a heated vent, he would be content all day. It was nice to sit in silence, to listen to the unfamiliar sounds of the city. To smell new smells, to see new things. To be free for the first time in his life. Free from the walls and the testing. Free from that _voice_.

He hated the Voice. It grated on his every fiber when he heard it. It carried power over him, written into every cell of his DNA; when the voice spoke, he had to obey. It was like hooks into his bones, in his brain; his body would move and he would be helpless to resist. But out here, away from that voice, he could choose to do as he wished and it was glorious.

A figure strode by his hiding place and his head snapped around. The form was too familiar. All so horribly familiar. And he found himself filled with anger as he thought of the man; the man with that Voice. How he hated that man, how he wished he could rip him to shreds. How he dreamed of hearing that voice screaming in agony when while he bathed in that man's blood.

With a growl, he moved his heavy body into the street. There he was, a man striding with purpose down the sidewalk. He glanced at his watch, brown overcoat billowing behind him. He was the same body type, same hair color. Replace that brown coat with a white one and that human looked just like...

A growl started deep in his chest, mouth curling up to expose large teeth. He saw not the human for who he was, but as the man he hated. The man with the Voice. The one he wasn't ever allowed to touch, the one he could not kill. So he would kill this man instead and it would sate his anger once again for a time.

The man glanced back when he felt the earth rumble behind him and he heard an inhuman snarl. He turned in horror to see a monster that should only exist in pure fiction before the heavy claws came down, mouth descending on his broken spine. Then he saw no more.


	3. Chapter 3: Mistaken Identity

In the Genes

Chapter Three: Mistaken Identity

Irma's excited squeals echoed through the lair as she flounced merrily about. Most of its denizens tried to ignore her. Raphael was lounging on the couch, watching TV. He was too lazy to remove himself from catching the brunt of her enthusiasm.

"Tonight is going to be so amazing! All the big wigs are going to be there! I'm going to get dressed up and it's going to be so much fun!"

Raphael ignored her as he flipped through the channels. He was getting good at tuning her out.

"Where you going tonight?" Michelangelo asked as he walked into the living room. Donatello followed behind.

"The university is having this fancy fund-raising banquet for our science department. A lot of big names in the industry will be there. I was invited! Thank you, Donny, for proofing my thesis! You're the best." She put her arms around him, kissing his face several times.

"Um, yeah," the purple clad turtle responded, none too comfortable with the affection.

"Guess who's going to be there? Victor Falco!" She gave an excited scream. "Couldn't you just die?"

"Who's that?" Michelangelo asked.

"Only the most important name in genetics right now. And he wants to meet me! He's looking for interns to assist on his projects." Irma crossed her fingers with a wide grin.

"Oh, I know who that is," Donatello said. "I've read some of his articles; brilliant man."

"I know! And I get to meet him tonight! I'm so excited!"

"Don't ya need to go soon so you can get ready?" Raphael prodded from the couch. He liked Irma most days, but today she was coming on a bit too strong.

"Oh, I brought all my stuff here. I wanted to show you guys how I look when I'm all dressed up."  
The brothers had no comment for that.

Irma glanced at her watch. "I probably should start getting ready now, I'll find you guys when I'm done." She grabbed the large bag she brought with her and carried it into the bathroom.

The purple and orange clad turtles wandered off, wondering how hard she would look if they made themselves scarce.

* * *

Roughly forty-five minutes later, Irma applied the last bit of lipstick as she looked in the mirror. Not too shabby. Her hair was pulled up and curled, diamond dangles from her ears. Her black dress was slimming and sparkly. She admired her form in the mirror. This would throw those turtle boys for a loop. She looked so grown up. Perhaps a few more tissues down the front.

After she finished stuffing her fake bust, Irma was ready to meet her public. She paraded out of the bathroom, hands on hips. Raphael was exactly where she left him. Irma took a moment to silently look him over. His wounds were healing nicely. He was getting stronger, faster. In another week or two those stitches would be ready to come out.

She strolled out boldly in front of the screens, striking a seductive pose.

Raphael instantly leaned to the side to see around her. "Irma, do you mind? I'm trying to watch the game here."

"Well, how do I look?"

"Fine. Now can you move?"

"Just fine?" Irma demanded. "I'm wearing heels for crying out loud! Don't you think I look hot?"

The turtle's eyes swiveled back to her with a pained expression. "I dunno, Irma, you like nice, okay?"

"Just nice? I'm dressed to the nines here. Don't you have any better compliment you could pay me?"

Raphael frowned. "Look, I dunno nothing about that stuff. But you still gotta few years ta fill out, ya know? You're a stick. You got no boobs, no ass. What, did you stuff something in there?"

He reached for the front of her dress and Irma slapped him away with a gasp. Mostly because she didn't want him finding all the tissues she shoved in there.

"Fine," she huffed. "I'll go find someone else who can appreciate true feminine beauty."

Raphael turned his attention back to the screen, happy to be left alone.

* * *

Leonardo was in the middle of his morning training routine, swords and feet flying in a serious of practiced rhythms. He had worked up a good sheen of sweat before beginning his cool down exercises. He stretched his heated muscles, breathing deep as his heart rate slowed to normal.

To finish off the routine, he balanced on one leg, swords out, body frozen as he went into a meditative trance. It was a practice Splinter had taught him since early childhood. Leonardo was still working to master the art of blocking out all surroundings. It was a deep discipline he tried to perfect.

As he drifted off into his medication, Irma slunk into the room.

"Hey Leo," she called in her sexiest voice as she leaned against the door frame, one leg propped out.

The turtle remained stalk-still and did not respond.

Irma moved toward him, swinging her hips and humming to herself. She leaned down to meet his gaze, fluttering her eyes at him. "Do you like my new dress?"

Leonardo remained as still as a statue, even when Irma snapped her fingers in his face. The lights were on, but no one seemed to be home. Irma smirked as she took this as a personal challenge. He couldn't ignore her for long, not when she was dressed like this.

She began to sing a burlesque tune as she sauntered around him. She bumped her hip against him and then slid down his side. She slid back and arched against his shell, kicking one leg into the air. Still singing, she moved around to the other side, swaying enticingly as she pressed in close. As the grand finale, she grabbed his face and stuffed it into her cleavage, seductively rubbing his head.

Irma pulled back expectantly, but he still hadn't twitched a muscle. Scowling, she stomped her foot and marched out of the room in offense.

Once left alone, Leonardo's face turned a reddish tint and the swords clattered from his hands. He decided he needed more practice.

* * *

Donatello's workshop was Irma's next target. She peered through the doorway to see him hunched over his table with a soldering iron. There was no way he could resist her allure. Poor unsuspecting Donatello. She just hoped she wouldn't break his heart.

Slowly, she moved closer to her prey. A dainty finger rubbed the lip of his shell and then down his arm. Donatello twitched at the contact.

"Hey there." She leaned in to purr in his ear.

"Hey Irma," he said tonelessly, not looking up from his project.

She slid around him, letting the material of her dress rub against his skin. Sensuously, she sat herself on his work table, one leg propped up to rub against the other. "What do you think?"

Donatello paused to blink at her through his goggles. He removed them and then looked her up and down. "Um..."

"Yes?" she cooed, leaning closer.

"You just sat in my nachos."

Irma's mouth fell as the horror of the situation hit her. She slid off to find a flattened plate of cheesy chips where she was sitting.

"Donatello!" she screeched in a higher than normal octave. "Wh-why would you do that? This is a new dress!"

"I didn't put them in a chair, they were on the table!" he defended. "You're supposed to look where you sit!"

"I can't believe this!" she cried, fleeing the room with her heels clacking awkwardly behind her.  
She hurried back to the bathroom in hopes of being able to salvage her evening gown.

On her way, she passed Michelangelo, and he grabbed her ass as she ran by. She froze in her tracks, suddenly flattered at the sexual harassment. "Well at least somebody-"

"You had nachos on your butt," Michelangelo said as he popped the chip into his mouth and chomped it noisily.

"That's it! I'm done!" Instead of the bathroom, Irma grabbed her bags and headed for the exit. She was done with those turtle boys for today. Yes, boys were exactly what they were and she was too mature for all of them.

"Are you alright, child?" Splinter asked kindly as he met her in the doorway. "You seem upset."

Irma just frowned at him. "I'm sorry to tell you this Sensei, but your sons... they... Your sons are gay!"

Splinter blinked at her as she stormed out into the darkness of the sewer tunnels. "My sons are... what?"

* * *

Irma hurried to the university, arriving early for the banquet so she would have time to clean herself up. Sequestered in the bathroom, she did her best to wash the food from her rump, mumbling about boys and turtles as she scrubbed. Luckily, she was wearing black. When the worst of it was cleaned off, the dress looked passable. The banquet was in full swing by the time she felt confident enough to meet the public.

University President Foster, who had been watching for her since the event began, instantly zeroed in on her when she arrived. "Ah, there you are. Dr. Falco has been eager to meet you. I told him I would send you his way the moment you came."

"Really?" Irma asked, feeling like she was on cloud nine. He came there specifically to see her. It seemed like all her dreams were coming true.

She was directed to a corner of the banquet hall where a tall man in a black suit stood away from the crowd.

"Dr. Falco, thank you for waiting. Here she is, our prize student."

The man set down his glass, his posture tall and straight. He leveled a charming smile right on Irma and she felt her stomach flip flop. She had never seen a picture of Dr. Falco before. The man was infamous for being terribly camera shy. She expected him to fit the nerdy scientist stereotype: gaunt and pale, hunched and peering out of bottle-cap frames. Nebbish and awkward, pants pulled up to his armpits with the ever-present white lab coat.

This man, however, was anything but. He was handsome and confident, mid to late twenties. Far younger than Irma expected, he was tall and finely built with broad shoulders, narrow waist, and a thick head of brown hair.

"Ah, the young genius. So wonderful to finally meet you." Dr Falco took her hand suavely and kissed it.

Irma was instantly smitten. "Well uh, I'm flattered. I don't know if I would say genius."

"Really you are too modest. Graduated two years early, valedictorian, and now nearly groundbreaking research in human genetics before you've even earned your degree. That is really something to be proud of."

By now her face was nearly bright red. "Thank you," was all she could think to say.

Falco glanced at President Foster who was still standing around. "Forgive me, I'm not much for crowds and social events. Would you care to show me your lab? I am quite interested to see how you work."

"I don't know if now is the best time," the president worried. Most of the donations made that evening would come because the famous Dr. Falco would be present. He hoped the scientist would have socialized more with the crowd to get them to loosen their hold on their wallets.

"Don't worry about it," Irma said, already dragging Falco along. "We won't be long. We'll be back before you know it." Dr. Falco seemed pleased to be led away.

* * *

The science labs were located in a different building on campus. Despite her earlier promise, Irma made no move to get there any faster than she had to. She already adored this man and wished to bask in his attention always. He came to the banquet just for her. A place on his research team seemed to be assured. And she would get to work with such a brilliant (and attractive) scientist. It was a dream come true.

"Yes, all of this is very impressive," Dr. Falco said as he read through of her latest findings. Irma was giddy with excitement. "Your work in human genetic mutations is far more advanced than other students your age. But what really caught my eye was your current research in human/reptile cross genetics. After working with human mutations exclusively for so long, what caused you to branch out suddenly?"

Irma shrugged with innocence. "I made some new friends who turned me on to the idea. I thought I'd explore the possibilities."

"It was well timed, my dear. This is close to the same sort of thing my team is working on and you seem to have an affinity for genetic research. I believe you will make a nice fit for my-"

"Yes!" Irma interrupted. "Whatever it is, yes! Uh- I mean, I'm quite interested in learning from you. If you are taking interns, I would like to apply."

Dr. Falco smiled kindly. "I appreciate your enthusiasm and I would love to add your brilliant mind to my research. However, you do need to be aware that my department isn't like working for the university. We take government contracts that require extremely high clearance. It wouldn't be an internship, you would be an employee, held legally responsible for keeping your work classified."

"I see." Irma calmed down, a bit disappointed she was not offered an opportunity to work with him right away if she wanted to continue her schooling. "I very much want to work with you. It's something I've been hoping for. And I'm flattered that you're willing to take me right now. But I have to finish school, I want my degree. After I graduate, if you're still willing to take me, I'll be on the first plane out."

She hoped he wouldn't be offended by the objection, but Dr. Falco smiled kindly. "I understand and very much respect you for your decision. I believe you will be an even more formidable scientist in two year's time."

Irma smirked at him. "I bet I could do it in one."

Dr. Falco seemed even more pleased. "Here's a card with my personal number. When you want to come work for me, just give me a call any time."

Irma took the card with a flush in her cheeks. His personal number; to call him any time. Certainly he didn't mean it that way, she was only seventeen. Perhaps that was why he seemed content to wait until she was older. Then maybe... something more could happen between them.

"Thank you Dr. Falco," she said with a blush still fanning her face. She pressed the card to her padded breast. "I'll keep it with me. You'll be the first one I call."

He looked satisfied. "That's all I could hope for."

* * *

After the banquet ended, Irma was still floating on a rainbow-colored cloud. Not even a graduate yet and she already had a high paying government job lined up. Her heels clacked on the sidewalk as she made her way toward the dorms on the other side of campus, bag hanging from one shoulder. Still in her evening dress, she hadn't bothered to change before leaving. Changing would slough off the last of the night's magic and Irma wasn't ready to let go yet. This had been the best night of her life.

Being a school night, no one else was on the grounds this late. Everything was silent save for the distant New York traffic. In the stillness, Irma caught the sound of breaking glass and she froze. Had she heard correctly? Yes, there it was again. It was coming from the science building. Her better judgment told her just to keep moving, but curiosity was always a strong pull for her.

With pepper spray in one hand and her cell phone in the other, she followed the sound. When the building was in sight, she clearly saw the windows on the ground floor had been shattered. Her lab was on the ground floor. Robbers? There wasn't anything worth stealing in there. Vandals maybe? If it was just some punks throwing bricks through windows, they would be gone by now. Irma decided she would simply call the police and let them take it from there.

She couldn't hear any further sounds as she edged closer to the broken windows. The silhouettes of tables and beakers appeared in the gloom, but it seemed to be empty. The vandals were probably already gone. She flipped open her phone to look up the number to the local police station.

A noise from inside caught her attention and she froze. Slowly, she turned her head to stare into the dark interior. The place was quiet again, then something moved. Irma could barely make out the shape in the darkness.

What made her catch her breath was that the form didn't look even remotely human. It was massive and hunched, so much larger than a person. There was a snuffling sound in the darkness, like an animal snorting around. Then the sniffing became swifter, more dainty as the creature raised its head and smelled the air.

Whatever it was, Irma knew better than to stick around. With as little movement as possible, she carefully backed up.

"I know you're there."

The deep gravely voice from inside froze her in her tracks. Though human words, the voice sounded so animalistic, dangerous. A predator speaking to its prey. Each word caused anxiety to tingle in her spine.

"I can smell his stench on you."

Her nerves couldn't take it any more. She took off like a startled rabbit. Behind her, she sensed the mass of the thing push itself out the remaining broken glass and her legs pumped faster. Irma wasn't sure if it was the blood pumping in her own ears or the heavy lolloping of the creature at her back, but the sound brought tears of terror to her eyes.

Horror spread through her anew when Irma tripped in her dress and heels. Her palms and knees stung on contact with the cement, on shoe fell free of her foot. But she wasted no time to assess the damage. Every second wasted brought the monster closer. She was up and off again, fleeing lopsidedly with one shoe left behind. The monster was closing in.

Where could she run? Where could she hide? She couldn't lead that thing back to the dorms, people would get hurt. But what could she do? Her brain was going blank with panic, fear pushing her. She turned a corner and nearly bowled over the body in in her way.

The figure was taller than her, sturdy and strong. Hands grabbed her shoulders as they collided, holding them both steady. Irma noticed wide shoulders, but a ball cap hid the face.

"There- there's something after me! Run!" she screamed.

The person pushed her on her way. "Go, now. Don't look back."

All her common sense was gone, Irma could do nothing else but comply to the orders. She took off again, leaving the far braver person behind to face the monster. Up ahead, she saw a bus pull up to its stop and she nearly sobbed with relief. Her shivering legs threatened to give out as she reached the first step.

As she pulled herself aboard, a sharp crack rang in her ears. She paused on the second step, whipping her head around. Was that gunfire she heard? What happened to that person who saved her? What kind of person was she to leave them behind?

"Honey, are ya staying or goin'?" the driver pressed in a Brooklyn accent.

Irma frowned and stepped onto the bus, digging for her student ID to show the driver. She felt defeated, like scum, but there was nothing else she could do. The bus drove off before she could even find a seat. Figures, she always got the rude bus drivers.

Most of the seats were empty and she plopped herself down, still breathing hard. She rubbed her face and ran a hand through her now tousled hair. What had just happened? Was all that real? The poor, brave guy that saved her life, what happened to him? He was her hero and she just left him there to face that monster alone.

Irma pulled out her phone again and this time, she did call the police and gave them the address of the incident. She didn't, however, dare to mention anything of the creature.

"Are you there now in case we have any questions?" asked the dispatch officer.

"No, I had to catch my bus. There was broken windows and I thought I heard some... body around. I'm all alone so I didn't dare stay there by myself."

Dispatch said that was fine and took her name and phone number before promising to send a patrol car to the area. Irma hung up, not feeling too much better. Even if a hundred cops roamed that campus tonight, she did not feel comfortable going back there. There was only one place in the entire city she felt safe.

* * *

Splinter watched his sons spar among themselves, a contemplative frown upon his face. It did not go unnoticed by his students. Assuming it was their poor form, they remained in somber concentration as they practiced to please their master. But after a while, it became obvious Splinter's mind was elsewhere. Whatever concerned him didn't have anything to do with the day's training. So, like any self-respecting teenagers, they immediately began to slack off to see how far they could get away with it before Splinter noticed.

The master had been preoccupied with Irma's parting words since she had spoken them earlier that evening. Splinter had never had such a statement expressed to him before. What was he supposed to do with that information? As a master and a father, how was he supposed to react to this?

Grunting on the practice mats suddenly pulled him into the here and now. Raphael had Michelangelo pinned to the floor, not adhering to the night's ninjutsu forms, but trying out some grappling moves he saw in the MMA matches on TV. His younger brother panted and jerked, trying to get out of the hold.

Splinter hurried to the mats. "You two, stop that right now! Raphael, get off your brother this instant!"

Both shocked by the sudden orders, let go of each other and knelt at attention before their master.

"I wasn't hurting him, Sensei," Raphael insisted. "We were just playing around."

"Is everything okay?" Leonardo asked his master. "You seem a bit distracted tonight."

Splinter let out a long breath. Of all the talks he thought he would have with his sons, this was one he never expected. Their lives where already so difficult, why had fate granted this extra challenge upon them?

"My sons, come sit."

Leonardo and Donatello joined their brothers on the floor, all eyes looking up with curiosity, wondering what he had to say to them.

Splinter wondered what he was going to say as well. He felt sorely unprepared for this.

"My sons, you know I care for you all. I accept you as you are and I am as proud of you as any father could be."

The brothers glanced at each other, wondering where he was going with this.

"Are you dying?!" Michelangelo cried.

They all suddenly looked panicked.

"What?" Splinter asked, thrown by the question. "No. No, no, no. I'm fine."

The turtles all sighed with relief.

"What I wish to speak to you about, my sons... I just want you to know that I will always love and accept you, no matter what. No matter the choices you make or how you are inside."

His statement was met with blank stares.

Splinter tried again. "You may have noticed, my sons, as you have grown older, that you are different from what many consider normal."

The brothers all looked at each other again.

"Well, yeah," Raphael said. "Of course we know. We're not kids. We can tell that we're different. We've known for a long time now."

Sadness welled up on the old rat's heart. "You have known for so long, but felt you could not tell me?"

"Um, we thought it was pretty obvious," Donatello offered, confused. "I mean all we have to do is take one glance topside and we know we're different."

Splinter hung his head in shame. "Oh my boys, I am so sorry. I did not know you kept this for so long. Please know that I will always love you, no matter which paths in life you take. You may always come to me, I am here for you. And if that path leads you to join with each other then... then I will still love and support you. Always."

The turtles were still trying to figure out what their master was saying to them.

Suddenly Raphael stiffened, eyes wide. "Join with each other? Master, do you think we're all gay?" he demanded, voice full of indignation.

The others looked horrified.

"I..." Splinter hesitated, trying to find the right words. He gauged his son's reactions. "You are not?"

"No!" Raphael instantly barked; then paused, glancing at his brothers. "Well I'm not. If any of you guys are, I'm okay with that. We're still brothers and stuff."

"I'm not either," Michelangelo said. "But if Donnie was, I'd be okay with it."

"What makes you think I am? Leo?"

"No, of course not. But if any of you were, I would still treat you all the same. Even you, Raph."

There was a sudden explosion of accusations.

"I saw you watching the Better Homes and Gardens channel."

"You wear purple! Come on, really."

"What about all those posters of sweaty, muscly guys on your wall?"

"And who has the collection of fancy belts?"

Splinter covered his eyes with a paw at the chaos erupting around him.

Leonardo quieted his brothers. " Wait a minute, guys. Master, what caused you to assume that about us?"

Splinter could not think of a time when he felt so foolish in front of his pupils. He sighed in defeat and embarrassment. "Irma said something to me on the way out of the lair this evening."

Raphael slapped a palm to his face. Donatello muttered something about revenge for the nachos. Leonardo was strangely blushing.

"Dude, maybe don't listen to everything she has to say," Michelangelo offered. "You know she spouts wacky stuff all the time."

As if on cue, there was a feminine cry reverberating about the lair. "Guys! Guys? Where are you?" The turtles stood as they heard Irma shout for them as she ran around their home. A few seconds later, she stumbled into the practice room, appearance in disarray and completely out of breath.

"Guys, I need-"

"Irma, did you tell Splinter we was all gay?" Raphael cut her off sharply.

"No," she panted. "Not you. I meant the other three."

"WHAT?!" came the triple protest.

Raphael smirked with satisfaction.

Splinter wasn't happy either. "Irma, I do not appreciate you telling me things about my family that are not true."

He was ignored as Irma found her second wind. "Guys, I was attacked tonight! That creature- thing that got Raph, I saw it on campus. He- it- spoke to me and tried to kill me."

Instantly, all past grievances were forgotten as the turtles gathered around her. They finally took notice of her disheveled appearance; hair out of place, dress torn and sneakers replacing her evening shoes.

"Are you alright?" Donatello asked, touching her arm.

"Yeah, I ran into this guy in a gray jacket and a ball cape. He told me to run and I got on the bus. I don't know what happened to him." Her eyes began to water. "I'm so useless! I don't know if it killed him, I just ran away. I was so scared!"

"Hey, we gotcha, you're safe now," Michelangelo said, hugging her from behind.

"Have you told anyone else?" Leonardo asked.

"I called the police, but I just said I saw broken windows and heard someone near by. I didn't want anyone else to run into that thing, but I didn't think they would believe me if I told them I saw a monster."

"We should go check it out."

"Yes! That guy who saved me, go find him!" Irma cried, gripping Leonardo by the elbows. "He was my night in shining armor! I'm going to marry that man! If he's hurt, bring him down here. I'll nurse him back to health. I love him!"

The turtles stared at her. That escalated quickly. Little did they know, she had been picking apart the encounter all the way back to the lair. How he had touched her, spoke to her. How he so valiantly risked his life to save her. It was like a romance from those urban teen fantasies she always read. He was meant for her. He would die for her. And she was completely in love with her faceless savior.

"Uh... we'll see what we can do," Leonardo said. "You stay with Splinter where it's safe."

"Okay, be careful guys."

As the four ran out, Splinter cleared his throat. Irma turned to see his arms crossed over his chest with an irritated look on his face. He was still a bit sore over the false information.

She laughed sheepishly. "Sorry, Sensei."

* * *

The turtles took their van, driving more carefully the closer they came to the university. Their mode of transportation wasn't exactly street-worthy according to local laws. The last thing they wanted was to get pulled over by the same police called in by Irma's report.

They parked a block away, sending Raphael on his motorcycle to get a closer look at the scene. He parked by the side of the street, the flashing lights of police cars in plain view.

"Yeah, there's just a couple cops there," Raphael said over the radio in his helmet. "But they're not doing much. That probably means there's no blood and no bodies. If there were, we'd be seeing a lot more people swarming that place."

"Okay," Leonardo's voice responded, "let's drive around the area and see if we find anything and we'll go from there."

"Woah, hold on," Raphael said as he noticed something in the sky. "We've got a black helicopter combing the area, too. Not really something the cops would bring in just to find some vandals. They're black, stealthy; like the kind Bishop uses."

There was a pause on the other end. "Come back to the van. We'll follow and see what they're up to."

* * *

The black chopper hunted above the city in a systematic pattern. It was looking for something. The turtles followed in its shadow. Leonardo drove with Michelangelo and Raphael peering out the windows to make sure they didn't lose it in the night. Donatello sat in the back, a map of the city spread before him as he tried to triangulate the chopper's search patterns.

"It's coming around," Raphael reported, head halfway out. "I think it spotted something."

Leonardo was about to ask which direction it was going when a figure rushed out in front of his headlights. He slammed on the brakes. "Hold on guys!"

"What sort of idiot-" Raphael began, but the person in the middle of the road didn't even pause to glance at the massive machine that had almost hit them. They continued to race for the other side and out of sight.

Before any turtle could react, a hulking form lumbered into their headlights. Four sets of eyes stared in horror as the full mass of the creature was illuminated. Short, stocky legs, powerful forearms, and a thick, gleaming shell. Its small eyes were wild, blood dripping from one arm, spittle foaming from its growling jaws. It snarled at the headlights temporarily blinding it, but continued doggedly after its prey and into the dark.

It was silent in the van.

"Ho~ly crap, guys," Michelangelo said.

"Turtlezilla," Donatello breathed.

"Turtlezilla," Raphael confirmed. He hated to admit it, but a tendril of fear licked its way up his spine. His wounds dully ached at the sight of the monster.

"Gray jacket and ball cap," Leonardo noticed. "Probably the same guy who helped Irma. I'm glad he's still alive."

"For now," Michelangelo quipped.

"They're headed toward the docks," Donatello said. "That helicopter is on their heels, too. I hate to say this guys, but if that's Bishop's goons up there, we may just have to help him capture that thing."

"I ain't helping Bishop do jack!" Raphael growled.

"Would you rather take that beast home with us?" Donatello countered. Raphael was silent. "I brought some tranquilizers, but I wasn't planning on a creature that size. At least if Bishop got a hold of it, it wouldn't be on the streets killing people any more. That's got to be our first priority."

Leonardo stepped on the gas. "Making sure no one gets hurt tonight is first priority. If Bishop's flunkies take the monster down, we'll let him have it."

"Guys? We're not judging this thing too harshly, are we?" Michelangelo spoke up. "I mean, people think we're monsters when they see us. Are we not giving this thing a proper chance?"

"Are you kidding me?" Raphael snapped. "You saw what that thing did to me, Mikey!"

"It's a fair question," Leonardo said calmly. "One we should ask ourselves. But Casey and Raph both heard it talk. It- he- is intelligent, like us. That means he made a conscious decision to kill those people and to attack Raph. He's no better than any human who chooses to hurt others. The fact that he's ten times stronger only makes it worse. We take him out tonight, any way we can."

"Just making sure," Michelangelo agreed, completely satisfied.

"Turn left here, Leo, maybe we can cut them off," Donatello said, already getting back to work.  
Michelangelo climbed up so he could poke his head out of the manhole-like cover on the hood of the van. The black water of the docks loomed up ahead. The area contained nothing but idle barges and rectangular, metal shipping containers stacked up and waiting for use.

The road led to a dead end; a high chain-link fence locked down tight.

"There!" Michelangelo called. He jumped back into the van and pointed out Leonardo's side window. Part of the fence was torn right through, a gaping hole big enough to allow one very large animal to storm through.

Leonardo killed the engine, switching off the lights. They all climbed out and gathered near the torn fence, silently watching the darkness of the pier. Rows and rows of shipping crates stood at attention before them, stacked up sometimes three or four crates high. It was a large rat maze for a very large, reptilian rat.

"We split up, go in silently," Leonardo said.

"Split up?" Michelangelo protested.

"We find his location," Leonardo confirmed, "then radio to the others. No one takes him on alone, understand?" That last statement was sent in Raphael's direction.

The red clad turtle's fingers were twitching around the handles of his sai. He fought the urge to hold their comforting weight in his hands when there was not yet any enemy before him. "Yeah," he breathed out. He wanted payback for what happened to him, but he was in no hurry for a rematch alone with that thing.

Leonardo pointed out different directions for each of his brothers and they all fanned out, fading into the shadows. Nearby, the black chopper continued to slip through the night. It prowled along the coastline, circling back toward the turtles' location.

* * *

Michelangelo crept silently in the darkness, keeping to the deepest shadows. After seeing Turtlezilla in the headlights, he had no desire to ever see it again. And most definitely not to be caught alone with the thing. He moved slowly, carefully. No doubt his brothers were searching at a far faster pace. He couldn't help it, something was making his heart beat wildly. His breathing sounded so loud in his ears, much too loud. He was still making too much noise. How could the monster not hear him with all the noise he was making?

The orange clad turtle forced himself to pause and calm down. He didn't usually panic like this, something didn't feel right. There was no sound anywhere, that was the problem. A big, lumbering monster like that, Michelangelo should be able to hear it snarling and shuffling around. But all he heard was the distant hush of the waves. That was the reason for the prickles on his skin. All his senses knew it; there was a predator on the hunt. Maybe it was hunting him.

Movement in the shadows caught his attention and Michelangelo's heart skittered up into his throat. He clutched his weapons with sweaty palms until the form of Donatello stepped into view. He held up a hand in acknowledgment.

Michelangelo thought his brother would move on, but Donatello chose to approach. Maybe he was getting that weird feeling, too. It made you afraid to be alone.

"Nothing?" the purple clad turtle whispered.

"No, it's too quiet," Michelangelo breathed back, barely making a sound.

Donatello nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. Leonardo said to split up, but he felt so much better with at least one brother watching his back.

While the two turtles were giving themselves the willies, another figure stepped out from between the cargo crates. The two instantly froze, weapons in hand. But this new person was also not the turtle monster. To their relief, it was the guy the monster had been chasing. He was dressed in jeans and a loose jacket, the ball cap still on his head. He froze as well when he saw the turtles.

"Hey, hey," Michelangelo was quick to say in a soft voice. "It's okay. We're here to save you. We're after the monster, too."

The human didn't say anything as he looked them over. At least he didn't freak out and scream, giving away their position. But his reaction didn't seem quite right. He was taken aback at seeing the two turtles, but it wasn't the same kind of reaction they usually received.

It was hard to gauge the man's response, the brim of his cap kept his face well hidden. Donatello managed to catch a glance as he raised his head. With eyes narrowed and jaw set, he pulled a gun and pointed it with conviction at the two brothers. The turtles tensed with wide eyes as the human clicked off the safety.

A savage roar cut through the night as a hulking mass simultaneously threw crates aside. The gun shot went wild as Turtlezilla surged forward, grabbing the man by the jacket and effortlessly slamming him into a tower of heavy, metal crates.

"I've got you now," the monster growled deep.

His voice sent dark shivers of fear down the shells of the unnoticed brothers.

"The Master sends you after me, does he?" the beast continued. "You are no match for me, small one. You know this."

The human hung there as if he knew it, too.

The turtle reached into the man's jacket and pulled out three syringes with a curious green elixir inside. "Look what you brought." He crushed the glass in his massive fist, the freed liquid leaking over his knuckles. "Oops, all gone."

This time, the human did struggle. It seemed he was not happy with the destruction of his property at all.

Turtlezilla just laughed as the human clawed at the hand holding him aloft. "Really, if the Master wanted to take me down, he should have built something better than you."

The human growled low and the beast laughed again. "What do you think the Master would do if I killed you here? If I bit off your head and left the rest of you to rot. Do you think he'll come for your remains? Or will he just make another one?" He bared his canines, rearing back as the human struggled. "Let's find out."

Two razor-sharp throwing stars zipped toward him. One ricocheted off his metal shell, the other embedded itself deeply into the creature's arm. It snarled in rage, though it seemed to be more angry at being attacked than actually feeling hurt.

"Hey, that's not cool!" Michelangelo called, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "No biting off heads on my watch, dude!"

"You!" the creature snapped. "Are you from the Master as well?"

"Master?" Donatello and Michelangelo looked blankly at each other and then back to the creature.

"You are not... one of us," Turtlezilla surmised. The cogs in his brain turned slowly. "Shall I kill you as well for knowing such freedom?"

A blinding spotlight fell upon the scene lighting up the horror to full view. The turtle mutant roared up at the black chopper as he was blinded. The doors of the helicopter opened, armed and armored men repelling down.

The man in the ball cap took that moment of distraction to make his move. An arm jabbed toward the turtle's neck, blade glinting in the light before it sunk deep in the mutant's flesh. Turtlezilla reared back and screamed in rage. The man slipped out of his jacket and lurched away as the creature surged. Still blinded by the spotlight, the turtle swiped haphazardly, backhanding the human. The body went flying like a rag doll, right into Donatello and Michelangelo.

As one, the brothers braced themselves to catch the body. But the force of the blow was too strong and they all fell to the ground in a groaning heap. Michelangelo struggled to sit up with the human body on top of him. His hand felt something unexpected under the stranger's black T-shirt and his jaw dropped.

"Donny! This dude's got boobs!" he hissed. The human had lost his ball cap sometime during the collision and a head of long, brunette hair now swallowed the stranger's face. "He's a chick!"

The girl shoved his chest as she backed away from them, all the while coughing as she tried to get air back in her lungs. Her silhouette was highlighted by the spotlight behind her. She was still tall, shoulders wide; but not as wide as her jacket had suggested. A full volume of brown hair spilled out behind her without the cap to hold it back. With chin strong and eyes sharp, she stood and looked down upon the brothers without flinch or fear at their appearance.

A shout from behind caught her attention. Bishop's men were descending on the monster like a nest of spiders. She turned and raced toward them, picking up her discarded gun. Then she veered sharply to the side and disappeared into the shadows. No one noticed, not with the behemoth in full view of the spotlights.

The activity had summoned Raphael and Leonardo from the shadows. They were crouched on top of a three-high crate pile, remaining a safe distance from the helicopter spotlight. They saw the girl run into the darkness, turning another corner, only to come in contact with a solid, taller body.

"Well this is interesting," Bishop said as he held the girl by the wrists. "Care to show me some ID, young lady?"

The girl attacked him, fast, hard. Bishop was more than a little surprised as he barely blocked the fist meant for his face. This girl was stronger than she looked. But Bishop was never one to go on the defense. His fist flew right back and the girl ducked from his attack. Every fist she dodged and then found an opening to strike.

Bishop was surprised anew when she whirled upon him with a spinning kick and solidly blocked his punches. This wasn't some street punk, someone trained this girl. She wasn't just here by accident. What was most disturbing was that her fighting style was far too familiar. Too much like his own. Bishop had held back when he first attacked, but the girl was overtaking him. She kept coming at him harder, faster; blocking every blow, forcing Bishop to step up his game to keep up with her.

It was obvious the girl was trying to get past him and escape, but Bishop wasn't letting her go. Her frustration became clear with every attack, she was getting desperate to get out of there. Soon she was going to slip up. Before that could happen, however, the girl moved away from him and charged right up the side of a metal crate. Before Bishop knew what she was up to, she flipped onto his shoulders. The momentum of her roll pulled them both downward. With powerful thighs, she gripped Bishop around the neck and spun him to the ground.

The agent landed flat on his back, a move that would knock the wind right out of normal men. But Bishop was no normal man. They both heard the clatter of metal and each knew that guns were in play. Both scrambled for their fallen weapon and snapped the barrel at their opponent simultaneously.

Bishop was still laying on the ground, propped up on one elbow. His gun was pressed into the girl's stomach. She was on one knee, her gun pressed to his forehead. Both froze in place as they caught their breath.

Bishop's ever-present shades had been knocked from his face during the scuffle. The faint light from the chopper illuminated his features and the girl's eyes widened when she saw his face. Recognition and confusion fought for dominance as she stared at him.

The federal agent was confused as well. "Do you... know me?"

A savage roar from behind caught both their attention. The massive turtle had one of Bishop's agents in each hand. It threw them without second thought at the other men who were firing tranquilizers to no avail. The monster broke from the circle and charged toward Bishop and the girl. The girl instantly fled in the creature's wake, but Bishop held his ground. He knew mutated monsters, he was not afraid.

The creature thundered closer and Bishop readied himself to attack. But the turtle wasn't quite as intent on a fight with the agent. Instead, it barreled right on through, backhanding Bishop on the way. The agent flew to the side, colliding hard with a metal crate and falling to the ground. He raised his head blearily, blinking in surprise as the creature continued right on going.

It's_ after the girl,_ Bishop thought to himself. The edges of his vision were getting dark. _Why...?_ That was the last thought the agent had before he fell into unconsciousness.

The girl continued to run, but the turtle was gaining. She turned and fired her gun. The bullets ricocheted off the metal plastron of its chest and it kept coming. The brunette held the gun steady with both arms, aiming for the head. She hit her target and watched with wide, disbelieving eyes as the bullet skimmed over the top of the head, shaving off a strip of skin, but not penetrating the thick skull.

"Look out!"

The girl snapped her head over at the turtle-like silhouettes standing on top of the crate above her. Two more turtles. Where were they all coming from?

"Run!" one of them called to her.

She turned around to Turtlezilla just in time to see the massive mouth clamp down on her shoulder. Almost instantly, the monster roared back in pain.

Raphael perched on his shell, pulling a bloodied sai out of the back of its neck. "I've been waiting a while for a rematch with you," he growled.

The monster swiped at him, but Raphael nimbly back-flipped off. Then the beast turned back to the girl. Leonardo rushed in to reach her first, he was too late. The stunned girl was picked up in the beast's clutches.

"I'll have to save your corpse for later," he growled with bloody teeth. He punched her into the nearest barge, the metal twanging with the impact. The body was then thrown into a pile of pallets, shattering the wood in a shower of splinters.

By now, Michelangelo and Donatello had found their brothers. All four circled the monster, weapons drawn.

Turtlezilla eyed each one in turn. "An entire nest of hatchlings, I see," it chuckled deep and dark. "If the young wish to be devoured, then step inside."

"Man, this dude his creepy," Michelangelo said.

"Tell me about it," Raphael mumbled.

The brothers tensed as the creature lunged hungrily. At the same time, a heavy rope net fell upon the turtle monster, distracting it from its prey. He snarled and snapped around as he was bombarded with several tranquilizer darts, of which only a few found their mark around the metal shell-like armor. The chopper's search light blinded the creature as Bishop's men swarmed in, firing more tranquilizer, dead set on taking the thing down. The monster glanced behind it, but the four ninja brothers had disappeared like phantoms.

Bishop himself had recovered from his encounter, ordering his men to close in. "And find that girl! I want her questioned."

Said female had already been discovered by the four brothers. She was out cold, bleeding on the ground. Donatello cradled her head in one hand, glancing over the body to assess her wounds.

"Donny, she tried to shoot us," Michelangelo reminded him in a hushed voice. "She would have killed us. Do we really want to give her a second opportunity?"

Armed men ran by and the turtles stilled in the shadows.

"We can't take her home, but we can't leave her here with Bishop and that thing," Leonardo whispered. "Let's get her to the van and get out of here, we'll go from there."

The savage roars of the monster lessened as the turtles raced off into the darkness. It was going to be Bishop's problem now. At least it would be off the street. The turtles would worry about everything else later. The van drove away from the scene, Leonardo at the wheel and leaving the chopper searchlight far behind.

Michelangelo sat in the passenger seat, unwilling to get closer to the stranger. Especially as Donatello continued to find more weapons on her the more he probed for injuries. Raphael stood watchfully over them, one hand on the ceiling for balance. He didn't like the look of so many firearms discovered on the human either. This girl was not a victim of the monster as previously assumed, she had been out hunting.

The human was not in very good shape. Still unconscious, it was near impossible to guess how much blood she lost with the black shirt she was wearing. Donatello ripped at the collar to examine the teeth marks. They were deep and bleeding, but hadn't pulled loose any flesh. The worst of it was her leg. A large splinter of wood stuck out of her calf, blood seeping into her jeans. The leg was possibly broken as well, judging from the position of the limb. Donatello didn't dare touch it while the van was bouncing around.

Leonardo pulled out his shell cell as he waited on a red light.

"Really Leo?" Michelangelo asked cheekily. "Using the phone while driving is not safe, you know."

The blue-clad turtle just frowned and tossed the phone over without further instruction. The light turned green and Michelangelo dialed home.

"Hello?" came Splinter's voice on the other end.

"Hey Sensei, it's Mikey. We totally found Turtlezilla! Raph was right! He's huge and scary!"

"Is anyone hurt?"

"We're fine. Bishop crashed the party, so Turtlezilla is going to be his problem for a while."

"I suppose it's about as much as we can hope for. At least the creature can no longer-"

"Hey, did you find him?" Irma's voice suddenly interrupted on the phone. "Did you find the guy who helped me? Is he safe?"

"Uhh..." Michelangelo glanced behind him at the girl. "Yeah, kind of."

"Ohmigosh!" Irma squealed. "Is he with you now? Is he cute? Did he mention me?"

"Um, well, 'he' is kind of unconscious right now. Donnie's looking at him. Can you put Splinter back on the phone?"

"Oh no!" Irma cried. "Take care of him guys! We were meant to be together!"

"Irma, put Splinter on the phone."

There was a rustling sound followed by the rat's deep voice. "Hello?"

"Sensei, you have to do something!" Irma's voice persisted in the background. "Don't let him die! He's my soul mate!"

Splinter's voice attempted to hush and calm her before getting back on the line. "What is it you need, Michelangelo?"

"Can you meet us in the garage, Sensei? Bring the extra first aid kit? We want to help this... person, but we don't think it will be safe to bring them back to the lair."

"A wise decision, my son. I will meet you there."

* * *

The garage was an abandoned building at street level. From the outside, it appeared as if no one had used it for years. Inside, it was where the turtles housed their van and other alternate road vehicles. It was too much of a pain to try to get them underground. This was far more convenient.

As the turtles drove into the garage, the headlights shined on Splinter. He raised a paw to shield his eyes from the glare while Irma bounced next to him in excitement, still wearing her torn evening dress. Her hair was a mere shadow of itself from the banquet.

"I can't believe Splinter brought Irma," Raphael said, leaning in from the back.

Michelangelo glanced at him. "You really think Sensei had a choice?"

Leonardo stepped out and slid open the van's side door.

"Where is he?" Irma rushed forward, fists clenched to her collar bone with girlish glee. Splinter reached out to hold her back and she continued to bounce excitedly behind the safe barrier of his arm. "Is he hurt? I'll nurse him all better and he'll fall in love with me and-" She interrupted herself with a shocked, noisy gasp as she saw the body.

"What the- who is that?" She jabbed an accusing figure at the unconscious feminine form. Splinter was still trying to keep her a safe distance away.

"That's your night in shining armor, kid," Raphael grinned, putting the stranger's discarded ball cap snugly on Irma's head.

She instantly ripped it off and stared at it. "This can be the- you sure it's the same person?"

"Same clothes, same physical description," Leonardo confirmed. "She was being chased by that monster turtle. It probably would have killed her if we hadn't stepped in." He gave a meaningful look to Splinter. He would tell his sensei the whole story later.

Irma stared at the ball cap, fingering the material. Then gazed forlornly at the girl in the van. "I don't believe this," she whispered. "Do you guys know what this means?"

Michelangelo opened his mouth to respond, but Raphael cut him off. "Wait Mikey, I wanna hear what she says."

"Guys," she sighed. "I don't know how it happened, but I'm a lesbian."

Raphael and Michelangelo both suddenly burst out laughing.

"It's not funny, you guys! I don't know how I missed this! I thought I knew myself so well."

Michelangelo was still rendered speechless in his fit of giggles, but Raphael managed to recover himself. "Irma, if you're into chicks, I'll eat that hat."

"Yeah?" she asked, lips pouty and face sad.

"Yeah," he confirmed with arms folded over his chest.

"Kay," she relented with eyes cast downward. All her beautiful dreams of future romance had just gone up in smoke. Then she glanced at Raphael. "Can I have a hug, then?"

Raphael balked. "Uh... Mikey will help you with that." He slapped his brother's shell.

"Sure will!" The orange-clad turtle agreed with good nature. He willingly hugged his human friend. She brightened with a squeal as he lifted her off her toes. "Better?"

Irma smiled. "Yeah." She felt the turtle's muscles and her eyes brightened. "Ooh!"

"Aaaaand she's back," Raphael quipped with a grin.

"And this one is starting to wake up," Donatello announced from inside the van.

The girl's head was resting in his lap while he tried to staunch the bleeding on her shoulder. She gave a soft moan, hardly more than a sigh, as her light brown eyes fluttered open.

"Keep her back, Sensei," Leonardo said, motioning Irma and his master behind him. "She was armed to the teeth when we met her. We don't know how she's going to react."

"Hey," Donatello said gently to the girl, "it's okay. You were injured, but you're in a safe place now. No one's going to hurt you."

The stranger didn't seem to hear him. All she saw was a green face hovering over her and she reacted. The heel of her hand came up, punching the purple-clad turtle right in the jaw. Donatello grunted, but it wasn't a very hard hit. The human wasn't exactly at the top of her game. It was, however, enough to distract him and the girl stumbled out of the van.

Since she was clearly trying to flee instead of attack anyone else, the other brothers parted to let her through. She only made it a few steps before collapsing to the ground from her bad leg. She rolled over to inspect the damage, eyes widening at the sharp piece of wood sticking out of her calf.

"We're not going to hurt you," Leonard reiterated, keeping his voice low and calm. "We saved you from the-"

The girl wasn't listening. With jaw set, she grabbed the shiv sticking out of her flesh.

"No, no!" Michelangelo cried. "Don'tpullitout, don'tpullitout, don'tpullitout!"

The girl was sweating from the pain, hair plastered to her forehead. The wood came loose with a sickening sucking sound and blood spilled out anew.

"So gross! Ew, ew!" The orange-clad turtle danced around like he had gooey worms in his shell. His brothers were looking a little sickly themselves.

The girl struggled to her feet none too steadily. She felt around for her guns. Finding the turtles disarmed her, she brandished the bloody stake at them. "Stay back," she threatened. Those were the first words the turtles had ever heard her say.

"Child, please, calm down," Splinter said as he stepped forward. "You will only injure yourself further. Allow us to help you."

She whirled on the rat, keeping her crude weapon between herself and the mutant, eyes hard. Leonardo was disconcerted with her response. This girl wasn't acting like a normal human upon seeing mutants. Most first encounters, their eyes would dart all around as their brains attempted to process what they were looking at as a whole. And when Splinter came into the picture, most responses were of fainting.

This human made no different reaction from the rat to the turtles. Her gaze passed over each one carefully. She was taking note of their size, their physical appearance, their weapons. She wasn't distracted with the how and why of their existence, she was sizing them up, plotting on how she would take them out.

"Sensei, let me try," Irma spoke up as she stepped forward. She waved at the other woman. "Hi, remember me? You saved me from that monster. You told me to run."

The other girl did seem to recognized her and blinked in surprise. It seemed the only thing that caught her off guard that night was that there was a human willingly among mutants.

"These guys are my friends," Irma continued. "They want to help you. I want to help you, too. You saved my life." She stepped closer. "You need medical attention, you're going into shock. You've lost a lot of blood; your skin is turning green."

The girl actually dropped her weapon, horror on her face at the last statement. She frantically dug around in her jacket, her skin pallid and covered in sweat. Donatello recalled earlier that night when the turtle monster pulled the syringes from her jacket and smashed them. Was that what she looked so desperate to find?

After coming up with nothing, the girl backed away, limping on her bad leg. "Let me go," she begged, her resolve dissipating in the wake of fear. "I haven't done anything to you."

"You aren't listening," Raphael said with irritation. "We're not here to hurt you, we're trying to help you!"

The girl kept backing painfully away, her eyes darting around for an exit. She looked desperate and afraid now. Suddenly she lurched, doubled over her pain. "No, not now," she whispered.

She scrambled drunkenly behind a pile of storage boxes, mostly Donatello's junk full of random parts. A few of the top boxes fell over as she tried to get away from them.

"Anyone else think this chick is acting wacko?" Raphael said.

"Something's not right," Leonardo agreed.

He carefully moved to check it out as pained moaning came from behind the boxes. The girl was feverishly trying to remove her pants and the turtle stared dumbly at the display. The damaged leg hindered her progress and she produced a pocket knife that was somehow overlooked during the strangeness of the night. She began urgently cutting the material from her body.

"Back up, you pervs," Irma said, standing between the mutants and the stranger. "Give the lady some privacy."

Behind her, there was the popping sound of joints and ripping off flesh. The van's headlights cast a shadow of the girl on the wall, and the silhouette began to change. A half-human sound of pain cried out from behind the boxes.

Donatello grabbed Irma by the shoulders, pulling her with him. "We should all keep our distance until she's done mutating."

"Mutating?!" Irma barked.

The others stood somberly back. They knew a mutating body when they saw one. There was nothing to do but wait and be ready for whatever was the final product.

The shadow spasmed on the wall, something snake-like growing longer. The change took less than three minutes, but to the spectators, it was so much longer. Finally, the pained sounds died down and the shadow was still.

Irma, though terribly curious, was ordered to stay back as the brothers investigated. To their relief, the mutation hadn't increased the size of the body any. Two long legs stretched out, one torn and laying in a pool of blood. The skin was as green as a freshly watered plant, though a pale sickly color where the flesh was torn. A long tail had sprouted, thick and snake-like. The girl's brown hair was still in tact, but her green face was no longer human. Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, those same brown eyes looking tiredly at the turtles with hazy focus. Then those eyes rolled back into her skull and the female mutation was out cold again.

The turtles stared at her silently for a moment until Michelangelo put his hands on his hips.

"Huh. So what do we do now?"


End file.
